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Cbe Playwridbt 



M Ris Partner's Ulife I 

11 ■ 

^^ By Ceonard Candes 




(a4wiiJ ^miii. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT 



A COMEDY 

In Four Acts 



I 
By LEONARD LANDBS 

Author of ''His Partner's Wife,'" and " Mr. Roch of Rochester'' 



Chanibrrs Priftf, Publish f>-s 
27 Neiv C)t ambers Street 
Nezv York 



23000 



ONE COPY REOEIVet 



?5 3^^?^ 



1 Library ol Congres«j 
Two CoPfES Received \ 
^ JUL 21 moo 

Copyright entry 

2 <i mm- copy. 

2nd Copy Delivered to 

ORDER DIVISION 
nil 23 1900_ 



G6186 

Copyright, igoo 

by 
Leonard Landes. 



COPYRIGHT NOTICE. 

These plays are fulU' protected b}- the copyright law, all requirements of 
which have been complied with. In their present printed form they are dedi- 
cated to the reading public onh% and no performances of them may be given 
without the written permission of the author. 



DRAMATIvS PERSONAE. 

Dr. RobkrT Mockart (a pradis^ing physician in Neiu York). 

Mrs. Frkda Mockart {his mother). 

Etta Mockart {his sister). 

Mr. Adolf Moei^ner {his uncle, a snccessfnl business ma)! i)i 

New York.) 
Miss Lucy Moelnkr) {^daughters of Adolf I\foelner). 
Miss Lena MoeivNER \ 
Prof. Wit.tjam Powers {a Professor of Literature at a New 

York university). 
Mrs. Georgette Powers {his wife). 
M iss Em II.Y Powers (/? is da ugh ter ) . 
Mr. John LEE {a literary friend of Robert Mockart). 
Dr. lewis Mandei. ) ^ ^y-^,,^^^ ^f j^^i,^.,,f Mockart). 
Mr. PaulSchaeffer) 
Mr. Dan Fui^Ton {a prominent N'ezv York Manager . 

Mary ] {Servants in Prof. Pozvers' house. 
Wir.i.iAM J 
Webster ^ 

Phillips I ^ ^ ^ „ ... 

VNeivspapi^r Critics. 
Dean ^ ' 

P>]-:lmont I 

A leading man, a leading lady, members of Dan Fulton's 

stock company; messenger boy, etc., etc. 



FIRST ACT. 

At Mr. Robert Mockart's Home, East Second Street, New 

York. September. 

SECOND ACT. 

At Prof. Wii^i.iam Powers' Home, Madison Ave., New York. 

October. 

THIRD ACT. 
At Dr. Mockart's Home. November. 

FOURTH ACT. 
On the Stage of a New York Theatre. December. 

Period — iSgo. 



Cbe Playwrigbt 



ACT FIRST. 

The Scene represents a room in Doctor MockarVs house. The 
room is neatly furnished, indicating people in moderate 
circumstances. In the centre and left is a door, and on 
the right another door leading out to the study of Doctor 
Mockart. Both of these doors are furnished with portieres. 
I7i the centre of the room is a table, on the left there are 
chairs, and on the right of the room a sofa. 

Mr. M0E1.NER {a short, stout, prosperous-appearing business man, 
quite corpulent, with iron-gray hair and white moustache, 
apparently about fifty-five years of age), enters follozued by 

Mrs. Mockart, the mother of the Doctor [a slim zuoman, with 
hair tinged with gray, about forty-seven to foi'ty-nine years of 
age, appearaiice indicating a very nervous temperament). 
They enter at left door. 

Mr, Moelner* 

So — that is why ^-ou sent for me ? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

{Appealingly.) For whom should I send? You know I have 
no one else to whom I can appeal — ask advice of — or speak my 
mind to. Robert does not listen to me ; he does not see that he 
is doing injustice to us— and injury to himself— so I sent for you to 
speak to him — to explain, to show him his mistakes — where he is 
wrong. Perhaps he may take your advice and change. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Where is he now ? 



2 THE PLAYWRICxHT, Act I. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

{Pointing with her finger to right door.) There, there — study- 
ing unknown worlds, wasting his time on illusions and imaginary 
people — of no earthly use to himself, to us or to anybody. {Turn- 
ing to Moelner. ) Ah — is it not a pity for a young man for whom 
we have waited anxiously and patiently for so many years — we 
almost counted the days before he was graduated, and how hard 
we worked to help him finish his medical education ; and after- 
wards, when we expected from him assistance — advice — and to be 
of some use to us — to himself — he takes such impossible, im- 
practicable, foolish ideas into his head — to become a dramatist, a 
playwright — a poet. 

Mr. Moelner. 

But he has w^ritten so many things. What has become of them ? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Nothing — absolutely nothing ! Only the other day he sent one 
of his plays to a manager, who kept it for a long time, and we 
really thought that something would come of it. In the end 
Robert received a letter from the manager saying that the play 
was very cleverly written, but he was sorry he could not use it. 
By a mark which I had previously made in the bundle, we found 
that the manager had not even opened the manuscript. 

Mr. Moelner. 

And what did Robert say to that ? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

He coolly said : "That does not show anything. I will write 
another plaj- and send it to the same manager." 

Mr. Moelner. 

{Astonished.) Impossible! You cannot call it ambition. The 
boy must be mad — madly ambitious. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

{Interrupting.) Study and the theatre — the theatre and study 
— these are his life, he exclaimed. So, you see, he has lost 
entirely all interest in his profession, that cost him so many 
years of labor, and has undertaken a task that he is incompetent, 
incapable to accomplish. {Appealingly.) Is it not madness? 
Madness in the last degree ? 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act /. 3 

Mr. Moelner. 

{Xodding his head.) Pity! pity! pity! that a boy without 
vices, with a golden profession, with life and a brilliant career 
before him should be ruined by a nonsensical idea. 

Mrs* Mockart 

The worst of it is this: lately, in the library, he met a Mr. Lee — a 
literary hack — who introduced him to a certain Professor Powers; 
and now, all that Robert thinks of or cares about is this literary 
hack and this professor. He imagines that this professor will dis- 
cover in his writings an unknown talent, a genius, and through 
him he will become known — popular — and his writings famous. 

Mr, Moelner. 

Yes ; youthful illusions. Sweet dreams of the young that never 
reach realization. 

Mrs* Mockart. 

]\Ir. Lee writes him : "You are the coming man," and the pro- 
fessor tells him : " You are a promising writer." 

Mr. Moelner, 

You ought to ask them where do all the promising writers 
go to ? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

But you cannot ask them ; you cannot talk to them. I do not 
know — haven't the slightest idea — how I shall get him out of this 
difficulty. 

Mr. Moelner. 

I believe that the only thing that would make him drop this 
nonsense and take an interest in his profession would be an in- 
crease of his practice. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Yes ; it is the only thing that will dispel his foolish ideas. But, 
as I told you before, the chances of success in his practice in this 
locality are very small. He needs a better neighborhood, where 
he can make friends — acquaintances — and, principally, he needs 
some one to encourage in him, to stimulate in him a love for his 
profession. 

Mr. Moelner. 

As bad an uncle as Robert considers me to be, I will open an 



4 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 

office for him near my house, as I promised you, that I and my 
friends will do all in our power to help him ; but, to tell the candid 
truth, I believe it will be of no use as long as there is no stimulus 
within himself. 

Mrs. Mockart. 
I admit that; but sometimes it is necessary to apply to a man a 
stimulus from without {quickly) besides, you don't understand 
me, (/;/ a different tone) Albert, is it not of ten the case that though 
a man is a total failure alone — he wins success — through the aid of 
a woman ? 

Mr. Moclner. 

{Interrupts.) Yes — many a man owes his success in life — to a 
woman. 

Mrs. Mockart. 
I mean, Robert needs the encouragement of a good and sensible 
woman. 

Mr, Moelner. 

{Lauohiiig.) Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! But, a sensible woman is such a 
rare being. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

They are rare, but they do exist, and surely your daughter Lucy 
is good and sensible. 

Mr, Moelner. 

{Inquiringly. ) My daughter Lucy ? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Lucy thinks a great deal of Robert, you have often remarked. 

Mr. Moclncr. 
Yes, Freda. That was our plan, even before he was graduated, 
and I often told you so ; but after his graduation he never came 
near us, never listened to me, kept aloof from us all because I 
refused to consent that he should enter any other career than his 
profession. Now, look at the result. What has he accomplished? 
What has he to show for so niau}^ years of work? Nothing, 
actually nothing. I am not a millionaire, to give my daughter a 
private fortune ; even if I could, I would not do it— and we should 
like Lucy, if she does marry, to have, if not more at least as 
much as she has been accustomed to. I admit that he is clever, 
and perhaps talented, but from a practical standpoint, he has 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad- 1. 5 

nothing to show. Had he not wasted so many years for nothing, 
things would have been different. 

Mrs* Mockart. 

But, he has all the material in him that makes a man succeed : 
he needs onl}^ to be shown the wa}-, and with your influence be- 
hind him it would not take him long to establish himself. 

Mr, Moelnet. 

He has all the material, no doubt. The trouble is, he is so 
obstinate ; it is a question if he would listen. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

( Emphatically-) Listen he must — and change he shall ! (/;/ a 
dijferent tone) and why should he not change— he will be in differ- 
ent society, different surroundings, and with the help of a woman 
like your Lucy, he cannot but change 

Mr. Moelner. 

For the present leave Lucy out. I don't say Yes or No. We 
will see how things shape themselves. Call Robert. Say I am 
here ; I want to speak to him. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

[Goes. to Right door and calls) Robert — Robert — 

Robert. 

{From inside ) I am busy, 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Uncle Albert is here. 

Robert. 

{Surprised.) Uncle Albert ? Uncle Albert you say— ? {Robert 
enters light door.) 

(Robert is a man about thirty — slightly, yet firmly built-, 
ivith regular features, face pale, though uot unhealthy. 
He has dark brown eyes and abundant hair, and beard 
brown in color, suggesting the artistic type rather than 
the medical man ) 

Robert. 

Uncle, this is a surprise. If I remember rightly you have never 
been in our home since we lived here. I thought you and your 



6 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 

family never ventured into this neighborhood, and why should 
you? Think what a different part of the city this is— the Foreign 
Quarter— the tenement district they call it. How far apart the 
people here are from the people who live in your locality — the 
same men and women — but like the inhabitants of two different 
worlds. Are you not afraid of the dangers of contamination and 
contagion in this foreign atmosphere, Uncle ? 

Mr. Moelner. 

{Quietly. ) I did not come here. Your mother sent for me. 

Robert. 

Oh, I see, she sent for you. No doubt, to tell you what a bad 
son I am, and to beg you to try to make something good out of 
this very, very bad son. 

Mr. Moclner. 

As far as I can see, she was not telling me an}^ untruth. After 
so many years of work, I understand you have very little to show. 

Robert. 

If you mean from a financial standpoint, perhaps {reflectively) 
' ' Yes. ' ' 

Mrs. Mockart. 
In what other way can you measure a man's success? 

Robert. 

Ha ! There are a good many other ways, mother. A man can 
be financially a failure, and yet a great_success as a man. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

For such men I care very little. Their success is theoretical 
and not practical. 

Mr. Moelner. 

The fact remains, you did not succeed in this locality, and 
perhaps after all, it is not so much your fault; you have no friends 
or acquaintances around here to help you along, and, naturally, 
you were discouraged and neglected your profession, and, fasci- 
nated by your ideals, you became an enthusiast — a dreamer. 

Robert. 

Uncle, there is a certain satisfaction in dreaming. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 7 

Mrs, Mockart* 

Dreaming is only dreaming after all, for when you dream, you 
do not live. 

Mr* Moelner. 

Robert, your mother is right. Leave dreaming to sleep — for we 
will sleep longer than we will live — and while we have life, let us 
live. 

Robeft. 

You call me dreamer, but I am not a dreamer. I want to live, 
and give life to my ideals. 

Mr, Moelner. 

Leave your ideals to the future, for the present let us talk what 
you can do now, to live. Your mother proposes that I should take 
you up into my locality and open an office for you there. I will 
give you my moral and financial support, and I promise you it will 
not be long before you will be well established, if you only give 
up your nonsensical notions and attend to your profession. 

Robert* 

What do you mean ? 

Mr, Moelner* 

I mean that you did not have the opportunity to succeed in this 
locality, so I offer to open an office for you in my neighborhood. 
My friends and I will use all our influence to help you along — if 
you promise me to give up your foolish ideas of making plays. 

Robert. 

( Emphatically. ) No. 

Mrs* Mockart. 

{Surprised.) No? 

Robert. 
{Firmly and positively.) No. Never. 
Mr. Moelner. 

And why not ? 

Robert. 

I am satisfied with what I am, with what I have, and where 
I am — 

Mrs. Mockart. 

You are very easily satisfied, indeed — for you have nothing — you 
are nothing. 



8 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad /. 

Robert. 

Now, uncle. If you are really sincere and want to do something 
for me, to help me along — something that I cannot and will not 
forget all my life ; and besides, if you want to save me anxiety, 
worrimeiit — and sleepless nights — for months— perhaps for years 
to come — lend me your assistance and I will find someone who 
will produce one of my plays. 

Mn Moelner. 

Oh, no — I have no money to invest in experiments. 

Robert. 

Call it an experiment, if you like, but you will find out my writ- 
ings are of some value. 

Mr. Moelner. 

{Shakes his head and Diotioiis ivith his hand.) Oh, no, I don't 
believe in experiments, they don't pay. They are unprofitable. 

^Robert. 

{Laughingly. ) Oh, I understand. If you were sure to make as 
much money out of my plays as you do out of buttons, you would 
produce them. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Why do not the people who know how to judge produce them ? 

Robert. 

{Crying out.) They will, they will. It is only a question of 
time. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Time? There is a time when all men must die. When? is the 
question. 

Robert. 

[Refleetively.') Ah, yes. When? When, is a bitter question to 
answer, to the man who knows "come" it must — but when will it 
come? — is full of agony, suffering anxiety and torturing pain. 
But, uncle, the man who does not understand the word "pain," 
never knows what " pleasure " means. 

Mr. Moelner. 

I hope you will succeed, but 3'our chances of success are very 
small indeed. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 9 

Robert* 

The smaller the better. If a man is bigger than his chances, the 
chances must become greater — and the man greater still. 

Mfs, Mockart* 

But, to fight a man must have ammunition — and you have 
nothing — even your physical strength will give out under this 
pressure. 

Robert, 

The satisfaction of some day having my dream realized, will give 
me strength to stand anything— everything — even my own moth- 
er's reproaches — my family's enmity — my friends' laughter. Come 
what may, I know what I am capable of doing, and nothing will 
discourage me. 

Mrs. Mockart* 

It is simply ridiculous, among seventy million people, a young 
man — whom we may say is a foreigner in this country — is not 
acquainted among the people, not even having the language well, 
wants to write plays. A play is life — and you wish to write of 
people whose lives you know nothing of. 

Robert* 

I may not know them, but I see them and feel them in my soul. 

Mr* Moelner. 

Robert, you are an enthusiast and you speak like a dreamer. If 
you would spend as much energy and determination in your pro- 
fession, you would be better off. 

Robert. 
Perhaps I would be better off, but I can do nothing else than 
do the work I love — to do. 

Mr. Moelner. 
To do the work you love to do is right, but do not attempt a 
task you are incapable of accomplishing. 

Robert. 

Whether I am capable remains to be seen ; for the present I 
have only one way to go. 

Mr. Moelner. 
Go your way. No ouq objects to that ; but first do 3-our duty 



lo THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act J. 

and fulfil your oblij^ations to your family — not to your family, if 
you like — but to the people who believed you, trusted you — and 
helped you out. A man can go according to his inclination if he 
can afford to, but you are actually indebted to your mother — your 
sister— yes, to yourself. After you have done your duty and ful- 
filled your obligations, then you can go your way and then only. 

Robert, 

I am doing the best service for my family, for m3'self and every- 
body else, when I do the work I love to do. I always make the 
necessaries of life in some way or other. I do not denv that I 
have some obligations to my family, but as long as I am willing 
to fulfil them it does not matter when it comes; besides, I have 
some people who have interested themselves in me, and who 
knows, the time may be at hand and at hand very soon. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

{Sarcastically. ) You mean the professor again. 

Robert. 

Yes, the professor. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

And you have forgotten to mention your friend, the literary 
hack from the library. 

Robert. 

Yes ; I have forgotten to mention my friend from the library — 
Mr. Lee. 

Mr. Moelner. 

And on these men you build your future ? 

Robert. 

No ; I build the future myself. They are only interested in the 
building of it. 

Mrs. Mockart. 
And may I ask if the professor's daughter is not also interested 
in this building? 

Robert. 
{Interrupts sternly.) Mother! 

Mrs. Mockart. 

The professor has a daughter; that is nothing to be ashamed of 



THE PI.AYWRIGHT, Act I. ii 

Roberta 

{In auger.) Mother! 

Mrs* Mockart. 

What have I said that is so terrible ? I simply mentioned that 
the professor's daughter also takes an interest in the building of 
your future, as you put ic. 

Robert* 

Mother, I see it gives you pleasure to pain me. If I could pay 
you back my obligations with my own blood, I would do so, for 
only that would satisfy you, and you would leave me alone. 
Uncle, good night. (Exits right door.) 

Mrs* Mockart* 

{Weeping. ^ I did not know that when my poor husband died, 
everything died with him. Yes; he is trying in every shape and 
manner to tear himself from us — everything he was accustomed 
to — everybody whom he knew seems no longer to be in his 
sphere. He thinks that he knows more than anybody, and he is 
more than anybody. 

Mr* Moelner* 

Patience, Freda, patience. All years do not pass in one day. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Ah ! You don't know. You cannot understand what it is to 
struggle year after year for the bare necessities of life, and you 
know well that I am not used to it. I did not have it in my 
father's house, and I knew nothing of it — until my poor husband 
died.- 

Mr. Moelner* 

Patience, patience. 

Mrs* Mockart* 

{Bitterly.) I would be patient, and would be satisfied with 
anything, if that boy would only listen to me and not consider me 
his enemy. 

Mr* Moelner* 

He is suffering from the fever of enthusiasm. He will cool 
down in time and everything will be all right. {In different tone.) 
Freda, you never mentioned to me that the professor's daughter 
took an interest in Robert's future, {A pause. Softly.) Is she 
beautiful ? 



12 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad I. 

Mrs* Mockart, 

{Abruptly.) She is not 1)eautiful, nor even fair — although I 
have never seen her. 

Mr. Moelner. 
But he was so indignant when you mentioned her name. 

Mrs* Mockart. 

Naturally. They turn his head by telling him how clever he is 
— their flattery makes him think that they are in earnest. "These 
are the people who understand me" he says, "They know my 
value. They do not care for the mere material side of life, but for 
nobler, higher aims ; and if through my writings, I have only 
succeeded in making them my friends, I have accomplished 
enough, I am satisfied " — and he plainly shows that he is simply 
infatuated with them. 

Mf. Moelncr. 

So ! So ! The professor's daughter has interested him ? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Interested him? He does nothing but think of her. 

Mr. Moelner. 

So — Then it is not the professor he really means, but that genile- 
man's daughter? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

He does not know what he means, nor what he wants. This 
boy will drive me to an early grave. He has simply taken my 
whole life's work, torn it into pieces and thrown it into the fire ! 

Mr. Moelner. 

Really, Freda, it is not so discouraging as 3'ou make it, and the 
best way is, do not oppose him; just let him have his way, and 
things will come out all right. I am sorry I did not know of 
what was going on here for the last few years; otherwise I should 
have tried to help you, but it is not yet too late; it is not yet too 
late. [ will find a way by which we shall bring this boy gradually 
around to his senses. 

Mrs. Mockatt. 

But you are such a busy man. We see you so seldom ; I dare 
say you are almost a stranger. As for your family, they have 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 13 

completely forgotten that pay husband was, though only a step- 
brother to you, still your brother, 

Mf. Moelnci*. 

I promise you I will come oftener now, and the girls, too, will 
come and see you. 

Mrs. Mockart, 

The girls are most welcome ; but I do wish that you would help 
me, 

Mr. Moelncr. 

I will — I will. Come and see me some morning at my office and 
we will talk it over. 

{Bell rings ; enter at left door Etta, a bright-appearing 
blonde girl of sixteen^ daughter of Wrs>. Mockart.) 

Etta. 

Still here, Uncle? 

Mr. Moelncf. 

I am just going. 

Etta. 

Don't forget your promise — about the box of candy, and re- 
member to bring down Lucy and Lena, as you said. 

( Bell rings aga in.) 
Mr. Moelncr. 
Well, good-by, Freda. Have patience. I have taken the mat- 
ter in hand, and you know that whatever I take in hand I gener- 
ally carry through. You may expect the girls to-morrow. 

(Mr. Moei^ner exits, middle door, follozved by Etta, Mrs. 
Mockart exits left door. Room remains empty for a 
moment. 
{Reenter 'B,T'i:A, followed by Mr. Lee.) 

{Mr. Lee is a slendennan of literary appearance, walking 
with a slight stoop, and rvsaring clothes zuhich indicate 
a disregard for the dictates of fashion; he is apparently 
about fifty, and his hair is sprinkled zvith gray). 

Etta. 

{Calling at right door. ) Your friend, Mr. Lee is here. 

Robert. 
{Rushing in excitedly.) Hello, Mr. Lee. What news? What 
news ? 



14 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 

Mn Lee. 

I have just come from Prof. Powers, He has read your play, 
and he may come to see you to-night. 

Robert* 

Yes? Is he favorably impressed with it? 

Mr* Lee* 

He did not express his opinion. But from his actions I could 
judge that he found something of value in it. Furthermore, he 
said: "Tell the doctor I will call and see him to-night to give him 
mv opinion." 

Robert* 

The professor, you say, may call here to-night? 

Mr. Lee* 

Yes, the professor, and he said it, in the presence of his wife 
and daughter. 

Robert. 

And how did they like the play ? 

Mr. Lee. 

I asked them, but they only smiled and said: "The professor 
will tell the doctor all about it himself . ' ' 

Robert* 

What did Miss Powers say ? 

Mr* Lee* 

She did not want to commit herself, but, like a clever woman, 
she let me into a secret, namely, that it was her intention to sug- 
gest to her father that in case you should not succeed in finding a 
manager for your play, to give an evening at home and invite a 
few friends — managers and prominent newspaper critics, and have 
you read it before them ; thus, perhaps, through the newspapers, 
the play may secure a partial but immediate recognition. 

Robert. 

That is not like all "clever" women, but a good suggestion 
from a z'ery clever woman. 

Mr. Lee. 

Ah, oh, yes. [Chajigino^ his tone.) A very clever woman 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 15 

indeed. {A pause. ^ But Robert, your intonation leads me to 
understand, that you meant to say, not only " she is clever, but 
a beauty, an angel, a goddess." 

Robert. 

She is one indeed — A fair goddess. 

Mr. Lcc. 

Why, Robert, I am astonished. (/;/ a changed tone.) You 
don't mean to say that you are in love. 

Robert. 

What nonsense, Mr. Lee — What nonsense. 

Mr. Lee. 

But vou talk that w^av. 

Robert. 

No, her presence simply inspires me. You told me j^ourself 
that every movement of hers expressed loveliness ; that her voice 
sounded like the most harmonious music. I am not in love, but 
slie is love itself, and truly, she is an ideal — my ideal of a woman. 

Mr. Lee. 

Yes, she is fair and lovely, and a thousand times more than you 
say, but that is dangerous ground for you to tread upon. You must 
avoid such things for the present. You have something to ac- 
complish — to work at — and success requires unceasing work. 

Robert. 

WJiy, Mr. Lee, the day I see her the most beautiful thoughts 
come to me, and that very day I do twice as much work. 

Mr. Lee. 

I am beginning to regret that I introduced you to the professor. 
You don't intend to repay us for all our trouble by stealing his 
daughter ? 

Robert. 

No, Mr. Lee ; I might be foolish, but I don't think that I am 
ungrateful. 

Mr. Lee. 

Please understand me, Robert ; I don't mean that you do not 
deserve the professor's daughter, but I fear for the success of your 
future work. 



i6 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 

Robert- 

{Enip/iaiical/y. ) My life is my work, and my work is my life> 

Mr* Lee* 

That I thought at one time myself. I will tell you something 
that occurred in my life that I never told any one before. During 
my 3'ounger years I undertook a literary work which I considered 
would be the work of my life. While I was engaged in this work, 
I met a woman whom I considered the embodiment of my ideal. 
I was infatuated, I was enchanted, I was inspired with her manner 
and her presence ; her movements charmed me, her glance bewil- 
dered me,;her voice delighted me. I thought I had met some one 
who would share the humble and simple life I intended to pass in 
this world ; but after a time my ideal began to fade and van- 
ished away. She belonged to a different world. To my despair 
and disappointment my whole inspiration and courage for my 
work disappeared. You may call it superstition, but I tell you 
this because I fear lest you should meet the same fate. 

Robert* 

Oh, no ! It is nothing but superstition on your part, Mr. Lee. 
That cannot and will not happen in my case. 

Mr* Lee. 

And why not? Are you so different from other men ? 

Robert* 

No, not that ; but I look at the meaning of the word ideal from 
a different standpoint than you. What is an ideal, I ask ? An 
illusion, a conception of our imagination, that we see and give 
life to in our dreams ; and this creation of our fancy by some 
chance suddenly and unexpectedly appears before our eyes in real 
flesh and blood. Naturally we are enchanted when we meet — as 
we think — this real embodiment of the lovely vision of our imag- 
ination, and painfully disappointed and despairing when we find 
that it has shown itself only to fade and vanish away. {C/ia}i^(re of 
tone. ) Did it ever happen to you, Mr. Lee, to wake up after a 
dream that was full of beauty, delight and magnificence to find to 
5'our disappointment that it was not reality, but only a vision of 
your sleep? Now, should you, because this dream is not real, give 
way to disappointment and despair ? or, rather, sa}- to yourself : 



THE PI.AY WRIGHT, Act I. 17 

"If I live and wait, I may yet realize this beautiful hope ; if I give 
up to despair, I shall realize nothing." Now, see, Mr. Lee, you 
wrecked your life for a disappointment. 

Mr* Lcc* 

Ah ! it is not so easy in life to conquer our disappointments, and 
a man is a very happy man who can do it. 

Robert, 

By effort we can do more than we think. — As long as I have 
known you, Mr. Lee, I have felt that some great disappointment 
has passed through your life. — Would it not have been better if 
you had made the effort to forget your loss, and have tried to con- 
quer a new field ? 

Mr* Lee* 

{Regretfully.) It would have been better — I often regretted 
that I did not try ; — but now, it is too late, it is too late.— My best 
years have passed, the spirit of my life has burnt out — [hell rings 
again) I see you will be busy, I will go. — 

Robert* 

Wait a minute, wait a minute, we shall see first who it is. 

Mr* Lee* 

Come down and see me in the library, you have not been there 
for some time ; there are some new and very interesting things 
for you. — A new poetic drama by Hauptmann — there is Rostand's 
play, a new play by Ibsen and Sudermann, and a new comedy by 
Maeterlink. 

Robert* 

So, so, Maeterlink has written a comedy, this is interesting. 

Mr. Lee* 

Besides, it is very cleverly written too, and on different lines — he 
has dropped the allegorical and followed more the realistic school. 

{Enter Etta, centre door. ) 

Etta* 

Robert, your friends Dr. Mandel and Mr. Schaeffer are here. 

Mr. Lee* 

Well, I'll better go. 

Robert* 

You know them, you met my friends Dr. Mandel and Mr. 



i8 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 

Schaeffer before ; don't you remember how you criticized them, 
" that the one had more money than brains, and the other more 
education than common sense ? " ( They both laugh.) 

Mr, Lee* 

Yes, yes, I remember. 

{Enter Dr. Mandel and Mr. Schaeffer.) 

Dn MandcL 

Ah ! you are at home. 

Mr, Schaeffer, 

What do you expect — a man who aspires some day to be a 
Sardou — a Sudermann — or a Shakespeare, would be anything but 
at home ? 

Dr, MandeL 

Robert, we came here to take you out to dinner, and have an 
important proposition to make to you. 

Mr, Lee, 

[About to retire.) Perhaps it is private? 

Dr, Mandel, 

No ! Mr. Lee, there is nothing private. On the contrary, I am 
glad that we found you here. 

Robert, 

Mandel, I am sorry, I cannot go with you to dinner, although I 
would no doubt enjoy it, but would be happy to hear your pro- 
position . 

Schaeffer, 

Oh, no ! If you cannot go to dinner with us — we will make no 
proposition. 

Dr, Mandel, 

Now be still — be quiet. The proposition is mine, the invitation 
to dinner is yours. 

Robert, 

So ! It is Schaeffer' s invitation to dinner. Schaeffer, you seem 
very anxious to blow in all the money your father left you. 

Schaeffer, 

You see, I must make up for my father's economy, and there- 
fore I practice di s-o^conomy. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 19 

Mr* Lee* 

It's a very good way of getting even with a foolish father. 

Robert. 

What is the proposition, Mandel ? 

Dr. MandeL 

You know, that a wave of political reform will pass over our 
city at this coming election, and the general committee of this 
movement has requested our district to send in some name that 
would be desirable to nominate for our assembly district. 

Robert. 

And you intend to propose my name ? Of course ! 
Schaeffcr. 

Certainly, and why not ? Even I, Schaeffer, indorse the plan ! 

Robert. 

I thank you for the honor you offer me, but the task I am at 
present engaged in, makes it impossible for me to accept. 

Schaeffer. 

Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! He cannot accept ! Really, he cannot accept ! 
How do you expect a man who aspires to be some day a play- 
wright, a dramatist, a poet, to stoop to political office ? No ! No ! 
No ! Why, Mandel, he may consider it an insult. The great 
man he expects some day to be. 

Dr. Mandel. 

Robert, it is not only a nomination, but this year it means sure 
election. 

Robert. 

It makes no difference. First of all I am not a reformer, at 
least not a political reformer, and truly I don't care to enter such 
a career, I have outlined a work for my life, and it is the only one 
I can devote myself to. Not to be partial, if I had any voice in 
the matter, I would suggest your name, Mandel. 

Schaeffer. 

It is not a bad suggestion, Robert. Mandel could very well 
use the salarv, if not the office. He had two patients in his office 



20 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 

to-day. One "brought him a bill — the other wanted to sell him 
some books. ( They all lauo;h. ) 

Dn MandeL 

( To Mr. Lee. ) What do you think, Mr. Lee ? Is he not wrong 
in not accepting this offer? For this is an assured thing, while 
the success of his writings is only a possibility. 

Mr* Lcc* 

A man cannot do two things at the same time and do them 
right. In my opinion the success of his writings is not a possi- 
bility — but a certainty. 

Dr« MandcL 

A certainty? Indeed ! And here we laugh, joke and make fun 
of him and his aspirations; and who can tell? Some morning we 
may wake up and find our friend Robert famous, renowned and 
all the critics may sa}^ : " Last night a new play was produced by 
a new author, and those who say there is nothing new in dramatic 
life found out last night they were mistaken, for new blood and a 
new generation bring forth new ideas. It was original in imagin- 
ation and execution — it was a success, a triumph — and we are 
happy that such a young man was discovered, and most happy to 
help him and to encourage him to future efforts." 

Mr. Lcc. 

{Shaking RoberVs hand.) I hope, Robert, I may live to see 
Mandel's prophecy fulfilled ! 

Schaeffer* 

Mandel's prophecy is rather too partial, gentlemen. The disap- 
pointment will be too great if the play should prove a failure. I 
hope it will not be so ; but it is also possible that the papers may 
say: "A new play was produced, and truly by a new man, but 
with old ideas and with other people's thoughts. No imagin- 
ation and no execution. We admit that the young man has some 
talent, but 5 per cent, of talent and 95 per cent, of water, makes 
water}^ talent, but no play. It was neither dramatic nor tragic, 
but a mixture of nonsense and talk. It was neither funny nor 
farcical, but a complete failure. The audience laughed where 
they should have wept, and wept where they should have 
laughed. It was a new play by a new man, but there was nothing 
new in the play, and surely nothing new in the man." 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act /. 21 

Robert, 

Yes, Schaeffer, you are right. It is more likely they will punish 
me than praise me, for most of us prefer to give others pain rather 
than pleasure. 

T>t. MandeL 

Don't mind what Schaeffer says, Robert — he generally speaks 
rubbish. Besides, the critics themselves sometimes say one thing, 
and the people just the other, but, at any rate, we all hope to see 
your play produced. Won't it be a treat to hear the people 
applaud, their interest, and their enthusiasm aroused. Why, even 
now I can hear them cry out: "Author! Author! Speech! 
Speech ! " And then flowers, roses thrown at you. Who 
knows, who can tell. It is possible, yes probable, that even yet 
we may witness such a grand night. 

Schaeffer* 

[Laughing.) It is possible, but hardly probable. What foolish- 
ness can dwell in man's imagination, Mandel! However, if our 
imaginations were as disappointing as our realizations, there 
would be mighty little happiness left for us. So, Mandel, I enjoy 
the success you predict for Robert, even though Robert himself 
would be satisfied with less than flowers and roses, and would be 
happy if they threw nothing else at him. As for applause, they 
may flatter him, they may cry out : " Author ! Author ! " But 
speech, no, no ! Speech, no, no ! 

Mr, Lee, 

Do not flatter yourself, Mr. Schaeffer, you will never be honored 
by the flattery of applause or by shouts to speak. 

Robert, 

Don't take it seriously, Mr. Lee, you know he is only joking. 

Schaeffer, 

A joke oftentimes becomes a reality. 

Dr Mandel, 

Never mind ! In spite of everything, Robert will yet be pointed 
out: "There goes a clever man ; he struggled, suffered, but he 
won. Bravo ! Bravo ! That is a man and a writer ! " 



22 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad I. 

Schaeffer. 

O, yes ! He is a writer. But he wiites something that is beyond 
his powers, and no one can understand him, except himself. He 
is ambitious. We admire his courage, but, after all, he is only a 
fool. 

Dr. MandeL 

Come, now, we have wasted too much time. Mr. Lee, Robert, 
come with us to dinner, and we will discuss the matter further. 

Robert. 

Really, I cannot go, but take Mr. Lee with you. 

Mr. Lee* 

I will go with them in order that you may get rid of them. 

Schaeffer. 

Now, come, Robert, 5^ou must come along. 

Robert. 

I would be only too glad to go, but I expect somebody, 

Schaeffer. 

Ha ! ha ! He expects somebody. Really, did you ever hear of 
such a thing ? A poet actually expecting somebody. What is it 
— a he — or a she ? 

Robert. 

A he. 

Schaeffer. 

Important ? 

Robert. 

Very. 

Mandel. 

About your play ? 

Robert. 
Yes. 

Mandel. 

Come, let us go, Mr. Lee. And you, Schaeffer. 

Schaeffer. 

So, really you cannot go ? You cannot go because you will not 
go, and you will not go because you cannot go. How is that for 
dialogue, old chap ? You might use it in one of your plays 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 23 

Isn't that brilliant? Ha! ha! Who can tell? Some day, some 
day. We are going — going-gone ! Ha! ha! Come, Mandel, 
come, Mr. Lee. 

(Mrs. Mockart (f;//<^;-5 left door, unnoticed by the others, 
and remains standing by the door.) 

Dr. MandeU 

Come, Mr. Lee. 

Dr. Mandel and Schaef fcf« 

( Together at door. ) Good-by ! Good afternoon ! Good even- 
ing 1 Who can tell ? Some day we may see — we may hear — of 
your popularity. Fame — flowers — roses — applause — success — 
speech — or speech not. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mf» Lcc* 

You are two fools — and some day you will be two idiots. 

Schacffer^ 

{Surprised.) What? Yes, yes; you're right. Ha! ha I 
Some day. 

iSCHAEFFER, Mandei. a7id Lke cxit centre door. ) 

Mrs. Mockart. 

{After a long silence.) Was I not right when I told you that 
your own friends laughed at you and your foolish work ? 

Robert- 

{Laughing it off.) Ah, they're only joking. 

Mrs* Mockart* 

Their jokes were too funny — to be jokes. 

Robert. 

You don't know them, mother ; they were only making fun. 
Besides, what do I care what they say? They don't know any- 
thing about such things, and don't amount to much when they 
want to judge me as a writer. The man who does know did not 
laugh. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

You mean Mr. Lee, of course . 

Robert. 

Yes, certainly. He kno7us. 



24 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad I. 

Mrs* Mockart* 

Yes, he knows. But you call Mr. Lee a man ? Why, he hasn't 
even a pair of shoes. 

Robert 
That makes no difference. But he knows — he can judge. 

Mrs. Mockart 

Of course, he knows. But see what his knowledge brought him 
to. He was so fond of his companionable books that he fell 
asleep among them, and I fear that the same thing will happen to 
you, that you will dream and dream and live in your illusionary 
world, till finally 3^ou wake up some morning and find your best 
years gone. 

Robert, 

Oh, well, you fear a good many things, and, strange to say, you 
always associate me with failure; never with success. You never 
see anything good in me — only my faults and failures. 

Mrs, Mockart. 

{Sarcastically. ) You mean I must not class you with Mr. Lee, 
for you not only take in the knowledge of others, but you are an 
inventor — a creator of neiu ideas, as you put it. 

{Bell is heard ringing, Etta enters left door, out of breath.) 

Etta. 

Mother, there is a carriage at the door ! 

Mrs, Mockart. 

{Surprised.) A carriage? 

Robert, 

( Turns on all the lights.) It must be the professor. 

Etta* 

No, I saw from the window. There are two ladies. 

Robert. 

{To Etta. ) Two ladies ? No one else? 

Etta, 

That's all I have seen. 

{Bell rings again.) 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 25 

Robert. 

Why don't you open the door, Etta ? 

(Etta, confused, runs first to left door, tJien to rigiit, and 
finally exits ceiitre door.) 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Who can it be? Is it possible Uncle Moelner has returned 
with his family ? 

Robert. 

It is more likely that it is the Professor with his wife and 
daughter. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

{In surprise.) The Professor! His wife and daughter! To 
see you ! 

Robert. 

Yes, to see me. The professor has read my play and they have 
all come along to let me know their opinion. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

{Sai'casticallv.) A good excuse — a fine idea. Clever — ver}^ 
■clever indeed. 

{E.rits left door.) 
Mrs. Powers and Daughter enter at centre door. Mrs. 
Powers is sliort, stout and middle aged, tiair is sprinlzled 
luitti gray, Jias regular features and refined bearing. 
Miss Powers is rattier tall, of fine erect figure, oval 
face, blond and about tiventy-two or ttiree.) 

Mrs. Powers. 

{Offering tier tiands.) How do you do, Doctor? 
Robert. 

V^ry well indeed, thank you. 

Miss Powers. 

How are you, Doctor Mockart ? 

{Ttiey sfiatae tiands in a very friendly manner.) 

Robert. 

I am quite well. {Pointing to ctiairs.) Won't you be seated? 

{Tliey ta1:e seats.) 



26 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad I. 

Robert. 

Is the Professor coming ? 

Mfs. Powers. 

No. 

Robert. 

{Disappointed. ) No? — He is coming later? 
Mrs. Powers. 

No, I am sorry to say. A special meeting of the trustees of the 
college was called, and he was obliged to attend ; but as he pro- 
mised to call on you to-night and give you his opinion of your 
play, he has sent us instead. 

Robert. 

And I am impatiently waiting to hear his verdict. 

Mrs. Powers. 

It is more than favorable. 

Robert* 

{Hopefully.) Yes? 

Mrs. Powers. 

The Professor followed your play with great interest from scene 
to scene — from act to act, while Emily was reading it to him. 

(Robert turns ivith a smile of delight to MisS Powers. ) 

Miss Powers. 

It gave me as much pleasure to read it, as papa to listen. 

Mrs. Powers. 

He was unrestrained in the expression of his admiration for 
the play. 

Robert. 

( Overjoyed. ) Indeed ? 

Miss Powers. 

He praised the originality of the idea — the skill of execution, 
the cleverness of the dialogue. In short, he predicted for the 
author a great future. 

Robert. 

{Aside. In ecstacy.) This is the first ray of light, the first 
encouragement after manj- a day of gloom and despair ; this is 
balm on my wounded feelings, inflicted by ignorance and avarice. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act /. 27 

( To Mrs. Powers.) This encouragement is unexpected ; it is 
as welcome — as it is valuable. 

Miss Powers, 

We all firmly believe in your ultimate success, and I am con- 
vinced that possible reverses at the beginning will onl}- serve to 
strengthen your perseverance, and will not in the least affect your 
iron will and indomitable courage. 

Robert, 

Yes, indeed, if five of my plays were total failures one after the 
other, that would not in the least discourage me to continue writ- 
ing the sixth, twelfth and even the thirteenth, if necessary. 

Miss Powers, 

We hope that will not be the case. You know, Doctor, mana- 
gers are generally very superstitious, and I doubt whether if a man 
wrote twelve failures, they w^ould care to try the thirteenth. 

Robert. 

I am not a genius, Mrs. Powers, but the more I write I think 
the better I write ; and if I keep at it, the managers will be forced 
some day to listen to me, to recognize me. 

Miss Powers, 

I have always been wondering how one mind can be productive 
of so many different ideas. Where do you get the material for so 
many plays ? 

Robert, 

They come naturally, of themselves. I read or hear of a simple 
incident which impresses me ; this impression in time begins to 
develope into ideas in my imagination, characters spring up of 
themselves, a plot begins to form and all this finally shapes itself 
into a drama. 

Miss Powers. 

A mere incident ? 

Robert. 

Why, a mere sentence The p'ay which I have submitted to 
the Professor had its origin from a few head lines that I saw in a 
newspaper. I read: *'.-/;/ innocent man condemned.'" This 
simple sentence brought a picture before my eyes. I could see a 
man with a bended head, on his knees, with the earth below him 



28 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 

and the sky above him ; I could hear him weeping and crying out 
"I am innocent! I am innocent!" in a tone that was so sad 
that it was heard in every corner of the world. The central oppos- 
ing forces of the play were conceived when I read that this man's 
condemnation was brought about by the fraud, forgery and false- 
hood of his own military comrades and teachers. 

Mrs* Powers. 

You built your drama then on the mere facts you read ? 

Robert. 

Yes, but the facts are only the model for my canvas, the work- 
manship is the invention of my own imagination. For example, 
in one of his trial scenes, the accused sees and feels that no matter 
what evidence is brought before his judges, their minds are made 
up to condemn him ; that they laugh at his patriotism and since- 
rity, and call them mere schemes and shamming. In an outburst 
of passion that thrilled even the atmosphere of the court room, 
he cried out: " Gentlemen, I am a soldier, if you doubt ; my 
sincerity and patriotism as such, put me to the test. Send me for 
the benefit of my country on an errand where there is sure and 
certain death, and see if I will not cheerfully give my life if my 
country demands it. I want to die as a soldier and not be execu- 
ted as a traitor ! " But to all his appeals they said it was mere 
argument, not facts — and condemned him. All these things be- 
gan and developed from a few suggestive sentences that I read in 
a newspaper. 

Miss Powers* 

Wonderful ! And you say that you have never had any stage 
experience. 

Robert- 

Never. 

Mrs. Powers. 

It is a natural gift, that cannot be learned on the stag^e or behind 
the curtain. It is born with the man. 

Miss Powers. 

Oh ! What a pity it would be if you should fail in getting 
recognition. 

Robert. 

I shall not fail. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act I. 29 

Mrs. Powers. 

Now, let us come back to our original conversation. The Pro- 
fessor's idea is that before you give a manager your play to read, 
he will invite a few critics, some managers, a few literary men 
and some personal friends, to our usual " at home," and have you 
read the play to them, and possibU' your work may interest some 
manager present and so lead to its production. 

Robert. 

Yes ; the Professor is right. To ask a manager to read a play 
by an unknown writer is an invitation to torture. 

Mrs. Powers. 

So you agree to this proposition ? 

Robert. 

I agree to anything that the Professor suggests. 

Mrs. Powers. 

Then let us hope that the plan will prove a success. 

Mrs. and Miss Powers. 

( Together.) Yes, let us hope. 

Mrs. Powers. 

{Aside, to her daughter.) Emily, it is late. 

Miss Powers. 

Yes, Mamma. {They bid Robert ^ood-night and go to the cen- 
tre door. Mrs. Powers passes out, but Miss Powers remains 
inside after her mother has g07ie. Cordially shaking hands agaifi 
ivith Robert.) Good-night, and I hope to see you soon again. 
This will remain a memorable evening, for an important step has 
been decided upon that may be decisive of your future, and I feel 
happy that I have been in a way — though insignificant — instru- 
mental in bringing about this result. 

Robert. 

(/;/ a tone of exultation.) My future is now assured, for no 
more shall I feel that I am alone. Heretofore I was like a child 
in a crowd, who, full of anxiety, is looking for a lost parent. 
Tortured by fear she watches every passer-by, only to be racked 



30 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act /. 

with disappointment. At last the parent suddenly appears. A 
glance, a look, and all again is joy and happiness. So I have 
found the parent; in the relentless, merciless crowd the Professor's 
kind sympathy and interest shall henceforth be my anchor of hope 
— his judgment my guiding star on the long road that is still 
before me. Forward now, with renewed zeal and vigor, I must 
surely in the end reach the goal of my ambition. 

Miss Powers. 

Yes ; I have often dreamt of the possibilities of your future, of 
that one night's success that will turn all your anxiety into joy 
and will bring peace to your soul and happiness to your mind. 
Your name will be on everybody's lips — your fame will spread like 
wildfire — and the applause of the multitude will re-echo in the 
heart that will rejoice over your achievements. May that moment 
be near for you — for us. [Shakes his hand again.') Good-night. 

[Exits centre door. ) 



END OF THE FIRST ACT, 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad II. 31 



ACT SECOND. 

Reception room in Professor Powers' New York house. Room 
is tastefully furjiished and brightly illuminated. In the back 
of the room, two large book cases. Folding doors on the left, 
opening into a further room. On the right side hangs a paint- 
ing of the Professor, also a companion picture of his daughter 
when very young. Another door on the right. In right back 
corner, a large table zuith punch-bozul, glasses, refreshments, 
etc. In the left back corner, a piano. As the curtain rises, 
first loud laughter, then applause is heard, Wilwam a7id 
Hannah, tzvo servants of Professor Powers are seen peep- 
ing in on the left. 

William* 

{Pointing with finger. ) Hannah — who is that man with the 
long hair, sitting in the right hand corner? 

Hannah* 

Why that is the great critic — Webster. 

William* 

He looks as if he needed a haircut. Who is that tall slim man 
sitting near him ? 

Hannah. 

That is the great German critic, Phillips. 
William* 

He looks as if he had had nothing to eat for a year and was 
dying of starvation. 

Hannah* 

William, see how attentive Miss Emily is to the reader. She is 
swallowing every word he says. " 

William* 

Yes ; I heard the Professor remark at dinner to-day : " What a 



32 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IL 

fine young fellow Dr. Mockart is. He'll be heard of some day." 
What is he reading ? A play ; his own play ? 

Hannah. 

Of course, his own play. It cannot be somebody else's play. 

William* 

That he reads it, does not show it is his own. 

Hannah. 

Mind your own business. 

{Applause is heard, coming from the room to the left, 
W11.1.IAM applauds.) 

Hannah* 

William — what are you doing, William ? 

William* 

Applauding. I am supposed to be an usher — and ushers must 
always applaud — that's what they are in a theatre for. 

Hannah* 

Hush — Hu-sh-sh ! Mrs. Powers is coming. {Runs over to table 

and begins to straighten and arrange glasses.) William — be quick 
— they are coming. 

{Laud laughter— prolonged applause — and cries of Good — 

good — heard from the adjoining room.) 
{Enter f'om left Webster, Phii,t^ips, Dean and Beemont) 
(Webster is short and stout, ivith long zvhite hair and 

beard. ) 
(Phieeips is a tall slim man, ivith bald head and luhat hair 

remains is quite long.) 
(Dean short, about thirty-five, slightly bald, ivith a limp, 

ivears eyeglasses.) 
(Beemont is smooth-faced, except the moustache ; hair 

sprinkled zvith gray.) 
(Phieeips enters with WEBSTER, the others following.) 

Phillips. 

{As he enters, nodding his head.) What do you think of the 
play, Webster? 



THE PI.AYWRIGHT, Act II. 33 

Webster* 

It is very clever. Of course there are a good many things for 
the young man yet to learn, but as a whole it is pretty good — 
very good for a beginner. 

Phillips. 

It is a question if Tom, Dick and Harry will like such a play. 

Webster. 

For that I care very little. I like it. There is something novel 
about it that refreshes the mind. 

Dean. 

There is something that this young man has brought out that I 
have never seen in any other American play. In it he has amal- 
gamated our foreign and native elements into one substance — 
and shown us as a nation. 

Webster. 

And how neatly he has done it — and yet so naturall3\ 

Phillips. 

Yes ; it is clever, neat and natural — but you can see that it is 
written by the hand of a novice. 

Belmont. 

Yes, and a novice who has only combined plays he has seen, 
into his own drama. 

Phillips. 

( To Belmont.) Belmont, who is this Mockart, anyway ? What 
is he ? I never heard of him before. 

Belmont. 

{S/irugs stioulders. ) Oh, some young physician, who from lack 
of patients and patience took, I suppose", to play w^riting. 

Dean. 

Belmont — there you are very much mistaken. This young man 
has not "just taken a notion to write a play," but it has cost him 
a great many years of conscientious work, and it is not lack of 
professional practice, but his great love of the drama which led 
him to write — and that will surely give him success. 



34 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 

Webster. 

Now, gentlemen, it makes no difference who he is — what he is 
or where he comes from. We must not consider whether he 
has virtues or vices, but only judge him as a writer, and as such 
he deserves a hearing and encouragement. 

Belmont. 

But still, I would not care to take the responsibility of advising 
a manager to produce this play, 

Webster. 

{Sarcastically.) Don't fear, Belmont. The manager would not 
take your advice anyway. 

(Prof. Powers, a good-natured looking man, about 55 
years of age, luith gray side whistlers, tall and well 
built, and zvitti an elastic, energetic ivatlz, enters at the 
left door. 

Prof. Powers. 
Well, gentlemen, what do you think of the play? 

Phillips. 

{Shrugging.) It's pretty good, but it might be better. 

Webster. 

I think it is very good. 

Dean. 

Yes, and original. 

Belmont. 

There is nothing new in it. 

Prof. Powers. 

However that may be, you must admit that it is written in a 
novel way, and, besides, it deals with healthy matter. He hasn't 
taken as a subject a woman with a past — or a man with a future — 
and the characters he describes are not so good that they could be 
found only in heaven, or so bad that they could exist only in hell 
{pointing doiunward) but they are human, and we meet them 
every day in flesh and blood — and only a man with great love for 
his f ellowmen could describe such characters. ( Mr. Lee enters, 
left. ) Mr. L,ee, some of the gentlemen think that Mockart's play 
is not original. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IL 35 

Mr. Lee. 

No ! — no ! — I have seen the way that the writer worked up this 
play — step by step, and not only that, I know how the subject of 
the work suggested itself to him. One night we went together to 
see a German play which dealt with the struggles of an unknown 
composer, and he thought that it would be a good scheme to 
describe his own struggles as a dramatist. 

(Enter Robert, and Mr. Fui^Ton, a theatrical manager. ) 

(^Mr. Fui^Ton is a tall, slim man zuith beard and bald head, 

about forty years of age, and of refined appearance, and 

walks with erect carriage ; as they enter at left door, the 

critics walk over to them and congratulate Robert. ) 

Phillips* 

{With enthusiasm.) I congratulate you, Mr. Mockart. {Very 
suavely.) I hope that it will not be long before I may have the 
pleasure of seeing your play from an orchestra chair. 

Robert* 

Thank You. 

(Phii,i,ips joins Mr. FuIvTon on the right, and the other 
critics form a group around Robert in the centre. ) 

Mr. Fulton* 

( To Phillips. ) I think this a work that will take, and with 
proper management, it will be a money-maker. Of course you 
cannot tell. Most of the successes that came under my hands I 
did not think much of as manuscripts, and some of the manu- 
scripts that I was enthusiastic over and had the greatest confidence 
in proved utter failures. 

Phillips* 

The play reads well, but, as you said, a good one may read 
badly and a bad one may read well ; from reading alone you can- 
not tell. 

Mr* Fulton* 

And from playing you cannot tell. It depends upon the tem- 
perament {jocularly), temperature and taste of the public. 

Webster* 

No — no. It is all right, even from a financial standpoint. It is 



36 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 

written in an enthusiastic manner, and he has — unconsciously — 
shown that he already knows the tricks of the trade. 

(Webster, Robert, the Manager and Phii.ijps y^/;/ the 
group in the centi'e. ) 

Webster. 

Have you any particular method of working, Mr. Mockart ? 

Robert. 

No. I sometimes carry the material for a play for years, and 
the best ideas will suggest themselves to me just in a moment. 
At other times takes weeks and months. The characters that I 
have portrayed in this play — their manner and behavior — were 
suggested to me by an At Home to which I was invited. I met 
there the principal characters I describe. 

(Mrs. Powers and her daughter enter, followed by guests.) 

Mrs* Powers* 

Gentlemen, won't you have some punch? 

{^As the servants serve the lunch, the lady visitors surround 
Mr. Mockart congratulating him. ) 

First Lady. 

It was delightful. 

Second Lady. 

It was just lovel}'. I am longing to see it played. 

Third Lady. 

It was charming. 

Fourth Lady. 

Really, your play was most enjoyable, Mr. Mockart. 

Miss Powers. 

{Aside, to her another.) Wasn't it grand ? Is'nt he talented? 
His reading is just as fine as his writing. 

Mrs. Powers. 

Yes, dear ; he is undoubtedly a gifted man. 

Miss Powers. 

Might we not now, before the people start to leave, ask Mr. 
Mills to sing my song and Mrs. Janeux to accompany him. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad IL 37 

Mrs* Powers. 

Certainly. ( Zb Mr. Mills ) Mr. Mills won't 5'ou favor us? 
( To Mrs. Janeux. ) Mrs. Janeux, I know, will accompany you. 
(Mr. Mills and Mrs. Janeux go to the piano.) Friends, Mr. 
Mills is going to sing a modest effort of my daughter's, in honor 
of the " Play wright, " entitled "Success," and Mrs. Janeux has 
kindly consented to accompany him. 

{Guests applaud. After the music the guests applaud, and 
they all rise and begin leaving. As they pass out a 
Dowager says to Robert— ) 

Dowager* 

Now, Mr. Mockart, don't forget. I expect you at my At Home 
next Tuesday, and you will meet there people from our oldest and 
(/;/ confiding tone) wealthiest families. 

Robert* 

Delighted, lam sure. (Laughingly.) But, you know, I pos- 
sess neither blue blood, nor red millions. 

Dowa§fcr* 

That makes no difference. You will be all the more welcome. 

A Lady* 

[To Robert. ) And don't fail, Mr. Mockart, to honor us with 
your presence at our "Tea'" next Wednesday. 

Robert* 

I shall be present — circumstances permitting — although I am 
not much of a tea-drinker. 

Lady* 

Don't mind the tea. There will be more time given to gossip 
than tea. 

( Exeunt guests, followed by Miss Powers, right door. The 
critics also prepare to leave ; as they do so, IVIrs. 
Powers says to the professor, aside. ) 

Mrs* Powers* 

( To Prof. Powers ) Mr. Fulton appears to be interested in 
the play Why not take him and Mr. Lee into the dining-room 



38 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 

and I will serve a little lunch, and then you can talk it over 
privately. 

Robert. 

( To the critics, as tlicy go out. ) Gentlemen : I bid you all 
good night. Whenever you speak of my play, speak of it as it is. 
I shall try next time to do better. You will overlook my anxiety, 
for you know better than anyone else how much labor there is in 
such a work as this, and you will pardon me, I am sure, for hoping 
you may {laugtii?ig) — " Let me down easy" — as the politicians 
say {All langti.) 

Critics* 

{All. ) Good night. {Exeunt right door. ) 

Professor Powers, Mr Fui.ton a)id Mr. Lee exeunt left 
door followed by Mrs. Powers. As they do so Mock- 
art finding himself alone, goes over and stands look- 
ing at Miss Powers' portrait. Miss Powers re-enters 
right door. 

Miss Powers. 

Would you recognize me in that picture ? 

Robert. 

{Nodding.) Hum-um. Yes, that is just why I am looking 
at it. 

Miss Powers. 
It was a present from my aunt on my tenth birthday. 

Robert. 

It bears a strong resemblance. 

Miss Powers. 

Do you think so? {A moment of silence.) But to change the 
subject, Doctor ; from the enthusiastic good night that the critics 
bade me at the door, I am certain they feel favorably disposed 
toward you. 

Robert. 

It matters not, Miss Powers. Their praise will not spoil me, 
any more than their condemnation will discourage me ; whether I 
have succeeded or failed to-night, the appreciation of yourself and 
your father is sufficient reward. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 



39 



Miss Powers* 

Now, it occurred to me — of course, I don't know, and it ma}- be 
that I am wrong — but, the most essential thing in modem plays is 
love — is it not? [Laughingly. ) Of course, perhaps you may not 
believe in it, but it seems to me that you have not made it a suf- 
ficiently prominent factor in your play. 

Robert* 

Why, Miss Powers. I tried to infuse love not only into my play 
— but into every sentence — for that which is without love, man 
dislikes ; neither can the world exist without it — but it all depends 
upon what you mean by love. There is the love to do right — love 
for your fellow-men — love for companionship — and love for love's 
sake. 

Miss Powers* 

Yes, there are a thousand different kinds of love, I suppose ; 
but what I mean is — " true love. ' ' 

Robert* 

True love ? There must be truth in every love ; otherwise, it is 
not love. But perhaps what you mean by true love, is the love 
between man and woman. 

Miss Powers* 

(Quickly. ) Then you believe in that ? 

Robert* 

And why not ? 

Miss Powers* 

I thought poets are so different from other men. 

Robert* 

But they are men — and man is man — all the time — and every time. 

Miss Powers* 

{Laughingly^ So — then you believe in love. 

Robert* 

Yes. — In the full sense of the word, I do. But that is only the 
great love of companionship — and for love's sake — and since I 
have known you, I begin to believe that the greatest love in the 
world is that — particular kind of love. 



40 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act 11. 

Miss Powers* 

Yes? 

Robert- 
Yes, my love for you. 

Miss Powers* 

{Blushing.) For me? 

Robert* 

For you— the guardian angel of my hope and ambition — for 
you, whose noble and pure heart has ever inspired me with 
courage, enthusiasm and faith in the work that I have undertaken 
{cai'essiugly) For you — and You alone. 

Miss Powers* 

{Feelingly. ) Who would not glory in the possession of your 
noble heart — who could withstand the charm of your intellect — 
the influence of your powerful mind — the beauty of your ideals — 
but, no, no, you must not think of that — that would be premature, 

Robert* 
Why? 

Miss Powers* 

Why ? Because I am afraid it may interfere with your life's 
ambition. 

Roberta 

There is no higher ambition for me than to be loved by you. 

Miss Powers. 

That is just what I feared. All 3'our zeal and energy and de- 
votion ought to be directed towards your art. 

Robert* 

As a playwright, I can devote all my energy to writing, but as a 
man I devote all my heart to you — and your love will only serve 
to inspire me with all the more energy in my undertaking. 

Miss Powers* 

Then you think that my love will encourage you? 

Robert* 

Your very presence inspires me— and your love will be the 
guiding light on my road to siiccej^s. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 41 

Miss Powers. 

Then I shall no more try to resist the impulse of my heart — which 
has belonged to you from the moment I met you. You have my 
heart — my love — my life, 

Robert. 

{Embracing her.) Without you, my life would be empty and 
barren. Your love will add lustre to my dreams, light to my life — 
and value to my achievements. 

Miss Powers. 

Hush — Father is coming. 

( 77?.? ProfeSvSOR — Mr. Fui.1'on— ^7/(7' Mr. Lke enter — left 
door.) 

Mr. Fulton. * 
{As they walfi in.) Of course I cannot give a definite answer 
now, but I will take the manuscript home with me to read it over 
carefully. The matter needs consideration. I am impressed with 
the play, but it will be a very expensive production and will 
require the best talent I can get. Otherwise a play like that would 
be a failure; it reaches the better class of people, and they want 
the best. 

Prof. Powers. 
Yes, read it over — slowly and carefully — and consider it. 

Mr. Lee. 

I would advise you Mr. Fulton to read the play twice. 

Mr. Fulton. 

People don't go to see a play twice. If they don't like it the 
first time, they never will like it. 

Mn Lee. 

Some of the greatest successes have proved failures at first. 

Mr. Fulton 

Those are but rare exceptions to the rule 

Miss Powers. 

{Aside, to the Professor.) See that Robert does not go 
yet, papa. 



42 THE PLAYWRICzHT, Act II. 

Mr. Fulton* 

{To MOCKART.) Mr. Mockart, I shall take the manuscript of 
your play with me and shall read it over, and in due time I shall 
call upon you and give you my definite answer. 

Robert. 

I hope that the decision will be in my favor. 

Mr. Fulton. 

Well, we'll see. Good-night, gentlemen. 

Mr. Lee. 

( To Mr. Fulton. ) Wait — I'll be along with you. 

Prof. Powers. 

Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Lee. I want you to talk it over with 
the Doctor and me alone. 

(Mr. FUI.TON bows and goes out right door.) 

Prof. Powers. 

Come Doctor. 

Robert. 

Isn't it rather late, Professor? 

Prof. Powers. 

That's all right. Come — come. 

( The Professor, Robert a7id Mr. Lee go out, left door. 
Miss Powers seeing others go— runs to right door and 
calls Mr. Fui^Ton hack.) 

Miss Powers. 

Mr. Fulton — Mr. Fulton. (Mr. FuIvTON ir-enters right door 
2uith his coat on his ann.) Well, what are you going to do with 
it, Mr. Fulton ? 

Mr. Fulton. 

{^Stirprised. ) It is my coat — why I am going to put it on. 

Miss Powers. 

{Disappointedly.) Oh, I meant— What are you going to do 
about the/>/rt'j'. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 43 

Mr. Fulton* 

I beg your pardon ; I thought you meant — what was I going to 
do with the coat. 

Miss Powers. 
Oh, no. I am anxious to know if you are going to produce the 
play ? 

Mr* Fulton* 

I told your father I wanted to consider it. I want to read it 
over quietly, alone. 

Miss Powers* 

Yes, that is all right, but are you going to read it over with the 
intention of producing it, even if you do like it? 

Mr* Fulton* 

I don't know. I shall see. 

Miss Powers* 

Mr. Fulton, from your manner in speaking to my father, I 
inferred that you might read the manuscript, but even if you do 
like it you may not produce it. 

Mr* Fulton* 

That is true. It is an expensive production, and requires so 
many characters, it is a question if it will pay. 

Miss Powers* 

So ! — I see ! — It is a question of money — not whether the play 
is good or bad. 

Mr. Fulton* 

No ; if the play is good, money is no object, for a good play 
brings big returns. 

Miss Powers* 

But, you heard the critics say it was clever, and they were 
enthusiastic over it. Everybody says it is good — and some say it 
is great. 

Mr* Fulton. 

{Laughing sarcastically.) Yes, the critics — the}' can write 
— talk and give advice ; but just ask them to put up the cash and 
see if they will not think it over twice. 



44 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 

Miss Powers. 

So, the whole question is money — money. 

Mr* Fulton. 

No, Miss Powers, you don't understand. A written play is like 
an inventor's model. It appears original and good, and you think 
it will take, but you cannot tell whether the invention is of any 
practical value until you have made a working test before the 
people, for they are the ones who are going to pay for it and make 
practical use of it. Now, a play is like an invention — the manu- 
script is the model ; to put the invention to a practical test we 
must put the play before the public, for they are the real judges 
— and to make such an experiment is, naturally, a question of con- 
siderable expense. 

Miss Powers. 

So, I see. You mean if some one would stand the expense you 
would make the practical test and produce the play. 

Mr. Fulton. 

Not exactly that, but it is more likely that the play would be 
produced. 

Miss Powers. 

{Musingly. ) I have a proposition I should like to make to you. 
Now, you seem to be impressed with Mr. Mockart's manuscript, 
but as I understand you are not ready to take the risk of produc- 
ing the play. Well? I have a little money of my own, and if 
you promise me that the matter will only be between us two, I 
will stand the expense of the production. 

Mr. Fulton. 

Of course, it is not necessary to mention that I shall regard the 
matter as strictly confidential. 

Miss Powers. 

Now, then, Mr. Fulton, it is settled that the play will be pro- 
duced ? 

Mr. Fulton. 

No, I don't say that yet, for I must read it and think it over. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act II. 4^ 

Miss Powers* 

Read it over, and look for all the good points in it — {growing 
intensely earnest) — for (Miss PowKRS i-uns to left door and looks 
off to see if anyone can overhear them, then quickly returns to 
Fui^TON, and in a suppj^essed but very emphatic voice says:) the 
play must be produced. 

Mr. Fulton* 

Then it shall be produced. 

(Miss Powkrs quickly offers her hand to Fui^Ton in expres- 
sion of'gi'atitude.) 



END OF SECOND ACT. 



46 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad III. 



ACT THIRD. 

The scene represents a front room at Dr. Mockart's house, open- 
ing through folding doors ifito a back parlor. The room is 
neatly but not expensively ftirnished. There is a door on the 
left, also 07ie on the right ; on the left there is a mantel and a 
pa7dor stove brightly burning , In the upper left hand corner 
there is a large old-fashioned book-case containing a large num- 
ber of books, manuscripts and clippings. Tozvards the right a 
sofa, in centime a table, chairs, etc. 

As the curtain rises, Mrs. Mockart and Mr. MobIvNKR are seen 
171 earnest conversation at left front ; at the right, on sofa, the 
two daughters of Mr. Moei^ner are sittiiig ; opposite them 
Dr. MandeIv and Mr. Schaeffer occupy chairs ; the young 
ladies are both well dressed, and dressed alike ; they are brun- 
ettes, with round faces, black hair and eyes, and ni7ieteen and 
tiventy-tzvo years respectively, and resemble each other strongly. 

Etta, 

{Entering left door.) Mama, I cannot find Robert. He must 
have gone out. 

Mrs. Mockart, 

See if he is in his room. 

Etta, 

No, he is not there. 

Schacffer. 

{To Miss Lucy Moki^ner.) That is a nice way to entertain 
friends . When they come he goes out. 

Miss Moelncf ♦ 

It is the eccentricity of genius. 

Schaeffet, 

I call it the eccentricity of bad manners. 

Miss Moelner. 

{Slightly surprised.) Oh— Mr. vSchaeifer, you have evidently 
forgotten that Robert is my cousin. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 47 

Schaeffcr* 

Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Moelner. He is your cousin, but 
that does not imply that he is a genius. 

Miss Moelnen 

Well, that is what the papers say about him. 

Schaeffcf* 

Oh, the papers ! They call him a genius, to-day, but to-morrow 
they may say he is a fool. 

Miss Moelner, 

At any rate, he is talented. He has accomplished something 
that not everybody can do, and under such circumstances that he 
deserves great credit. 

Schaeffer, 

What he has accomplished — an3"body can accomplish. It is 
only a question of time and perseverance, and if a man possesses 
that, with a little intelligence — he can do it — anybody can do it. 

Miss Moelnen 

Ah ! — patience and perseverance are great virtues in themselves 
{in a different tone) But, if you think it is so easy to write, why 
don't you try it, Mr. Schaeffer? 

Schacffer, 

I might try a good many things. Miss Moelner. The trouble 
with me is that I don't believe in try-ing. 

Miss Moelner, 

Oh, I see, you mean that your father has done all the trying for 
you. 

Schaeffer* 

My father worked so hard — that it is a pity that I should do any 
work. He saved me the trouble. 

They continue their conversation in to ic tone. 

Mr, Moelner, 

{Aside to Mrs. Moctzart.) No. I don't think Mr. Fulton is going 
to produce the play on the mere recommendation of a few scribes. 
The papers say he only took it home for consideration, though I 
heard that some material support was promised Mr. Fulton in case 
he decided to produce the play. 



48 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 

Mrs, Mockart^ 

But I understood Mr. Fulton has positively accepted the play. 

Mf» Moelner, 

Ivucy — read over the criticisms on Robert's play again. {Lucy 
takes up a number of neiuspapers from tJie table.) 

Lwcy. 

{Picking up a neivspaper and reading.) "At a recent 'At 
Home,' a Madison Avenue hostess, noted for her agreeable recep- 
tions, cleverly succeeded in ' killing two birds with one stone. ' 
For not only did she afford her guests a rarely enjoyable enter- 
tainment, but succeeded in giving an as yet unknown playwright 
a professional introduction through the reading of his own work. 
That the play made an impression on the very friendly audience 
there is no doubt; the author has unquestionably shown talent. 
We do not care to vSay much, but when such a manager as Mr. 
Dan Fulton takes a play home with him for consideration, it is 
evident that it has some merits." 

Mr. Moelner. 

Just as I told you, Freda — only for ' consideration.' 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Dr. Mandel, you read the German papers. What have they to 
say about Robert's play ? 

Dr. Mandel. 

The leading German paper simply says a few words. It hasn't 
a high opinion of Robert's originality. And, of course, if it finds 
nothing original in a new writer, it doesn't think it worth while 
to encourage him, and gives him the advice the poet gave to the 
shoemaker — " to stick to his last." 

Ltjcy. 

But, Robert says, that the critic of this paper, although he is a 
critic, is not so very original himself ; now another, who is not so 
prominent, but has a very good reputation, differs from this paper 
entirely. He says : " Very skillful, very. " He admits, however, 
that "the writer is not yet a master of his art, though he has 
shown a clever handling of the subject and a thorough knowledge 
of the technique of the drama," 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad III. 49 

Mu Moelner. 

{Sneeringly.) But isn't this critic a personal friend of our Pro- 
fessor. 

Schaeffer. 

{Picking up paper.) Here's a critic who advises him to go and 
learn proper English instead of trying to write plays. 

Miss Lena Moclnen 

{Picking up paper.) The Mercury says: {reads) "Not only 
those who pay to see diamonds and silks on the stage will like 
such a play, but the true lover of the drama will also appreciate 
it, ' ' and adds : ' ' Why do not some of these ' independents ' hunt 
out young writers like Mockart and produce their pla3's, instead 
of wasting time on dramas that only a small minority care for?" — 
There you are Mr. Schaeffer, one critic contradicts the other. 

Ml". Moelnen 

{To Mrs. Mockart.) So, you see, Freda, he has not made such 
a great success after all by his reading, and such recognition as he 
has obtained is only reading matter — of no value whatever — it is 
all on paper. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

I only wish the reading had been a complete failure, for then 
he would have given up this unfounded ambition of his and de- 
voted himself to enlarging his practice. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Yes, of course, it would have been better, but now the plan 
must be carried out as we decided. I'll put up the money to pro- 
duce the play. Of course, the plaj^ won't make much of a success, 
but, at any rate, his eyes will be opened to the fact that he isn't a 
writer, and that will cool down his enthusiasm, I fancy. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Just as you say, Albert — just as you think is best. I will do 
anything to tear him awa}^ from this professor and his family, and 
show him that his best friend is his mother, and only his mother. 

Mr. Moelner. 

{In a different tone.) Freda, was it not rather ungrateful on 



50 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 

Robert's part, when he read his play at the Professor's house, not 
to have invited me, or at least asked Lucy and Lena? 

Mrs, Mockart. 

He is as ungrateful to his mother as he is to his uncle. Why, 
he did not even take the trouble to tell me that he was going to 
read his play to anyone ! I heard it only through the newspapers. 

Mr* Moclner* 

Luc\' felt awfully bad. However, I will do my best for my 
brother's son, and for the sake of my brother's wife. I will take 
him in hand and see that his play is produced. If it succeeds — 
very well and good. If not, it will bring him to his senses, and 
show him what a fool he has made of himself for so many years. 
But, for all you can tell, all of our plans may be fruitless, for 
possibly these few lines of notice may have turned his head so 
that he will accept none of my offers. 

Mrs. Mockart* 

x\ccept ? Of course he will. He may not listen to any sugges- 
tions, but when you offer to produce his play he will be delighted, 
and, as you said, no manager will produce his play without 
financial support, and who can, who will, give him financial sup- 
port ? You know the saying is — " Everybody is a friend until the 

pocket ." 

Mr. Moelner. 

[Reflecting.) Yes. Who can give him financial support ? {zvit/i 
change of voice,) They say that this professor's daughter inherited 
quite a fortune from her aunt, not long ago, and you know that 
this daughter has rather charmed him. It was her idea that he 
should read his play, and at her home, and it is even rumored that 
it is she who promised financial assurance to Mr. Fulton, in case 
he decided to produce the play. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

What nonsense. These people are very nice, and very kind 
and all that ; they may introduce him ; they may give him a 
chance to become known to them and their friends. They ma}^ 
do everything for him, but when it comes to a question of money — 
they will stop and think about it twice — even if it is a scientific 
professor who has a great love for art. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IlL 51 

Mr, Moelncf. 

Where is Robert, anyway? I should like to hear what he has 
to say on the matter. 

Mrs, Mockart. 

( Goes to boolz-case at left upper corner and opens it. ) His note- 
books are here. He must be up-stairs. {Pointing to contents of 
case. ) See, Albert, this rubbish represents six years of work. 

Mr. Moelner. 

And, so far, it is only good for the waste-basket. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

I feel like taking it all and throwing it into the fire. 

Mr. Moelner. 

No, you mustn't do that. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Yes, I shall have to do it some day. 

(Mrs. MoQi^A.^'i goes out at left, foil ocued by Mr. Moei^ner. ) 

( Lena goes over to Lucy. ) 

(Mr. Schakffer crosses over to Mr. Mandei..) 

Lena. 

Lucy, Dr. Mandel says that he would be most happy to join our 
Thanksgiving Day excursion to Old Point Comfort. May I in- 
vite him ? 

Lucy. 

You may, if 5'ou like. 

Lena. 

He is so nice — and Mr. Schaeffer ? 

Lucy. 

I am afraid that Mr. Schaeffer would not care to join us. He is 
such a self-satisfied man. , 

Lena. 

But he is so rich. Doctor Mandel says that his father left him 
about a million. 

Lucy. 

Only a million. Why, I hear that he was worth two millions 
before he was introduced to me. 



52 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad III 

Lena,* 

{Looking at Lucv. ) So you mean that I ought to iuvite himr" 

Lucy* 

Just as you like. He would no doubt be a great attraction to 
our friends. 

Lena. 

A million would be an attraction to any girl. I would invite 
both Dr. Mandel and Mr. Schaeffer. They are both jolly good 
company. ( They continue their conversation in low tone. ) 

Dr. MandeL 

( To Mr. Schakffer.) The deuce — but hasn't Robert got two 
charming cousins? 

Schaeffer. 

Charming is no name — they are really beautiful. What sort of 
a man this Robert is, I don't understand ; why, he never men- 
tioned to us that he had two such lovely cousins. 

Dr. Mandel. 

I knew it. I knew them when they were two little bits of girls 
— and used to live in this neighborhood — and my father remem- 
bers when Mr. Moelner and Robert's father started business in a 
small room in a rear tenement house. 

Schaeffer. 
Yes, and now he is the greatest man in his line. 

Dr. Mandel. 

He has to thank Robert's father for that — for he was the man- 
ager and the brains of the firm. But, poor man, he is dead and 
buried; his family has none of the enormous wealth of which he 
laid the foundation ; — Moelner has it all. 

• 

Schaeffer. 

That's often the case — one man does the work and the others 
get the profits. Please don't tell them that / am rich. 

Dr. Mandel. 

I am sorry, but I have made that fatal mistake already. 



THE PIvAYWRIGHT, Act III. 53 

Schaeffcr, 

Then, I suppose everybody will first introduce my money, and 
then myself. 

Dn MandeL 

These are girls who do not care for money — they have social 
aspirations. 

Schaeffen 

Social aspirations? Yes? "Where do your social aspirations 
come in without money— when the first requisite to enter that 
private circle is money — and plenty of it too. And when your 
money dies — you may be sure of a social burial. 

Lucy. 

( To Dr. MandkI/. ) Have 3-ou known my cousin Robert long, 
Dr. Mandel ? 

Dr. MandeL 

. As long as I have known 3'ou. 

Lttcy. 

(/;/ surprise. ) Really ? I thought I had never met you before. 

Df. Mandel. 

Indeed? I remember 3^ou when 3'ou were a little bit of a girl 
and lived right across the street here, where those high red 
houses are. 

Lena. 

{Astonished. ) You mean those tenement-houses ? 

Df. Mandcl. 

Yes, — there were small houses then — and when more people 
came, they built these larger ones, and they called them tenements. 

Lena. 

It must have been quite a different neighborhood at that time, 

Df. Mandel. 

Yes, it was different in a wa3', but as more emigrants came here 
the3^ built larger houses. 

Lena. 
Wh3^ only the foreign element lives in these houses now. 



54 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 

Dr« MandeL 

For that matter, we are all foreigners, except those who have 
Indian blood. 

(Robert enters teft door. ) 

Lena* 

Where have you been, cousin Robert? 

Robert* 

For a walk. 

Lucy* 

In such weather? 

Robert* 

Such weather gives a man respiration — aspiration— and inspira- 
tion ! 

Schaeffer* 

You disappeared without even an excuse. 

Robert* 

Ah, excuse — excuses are only empty explanations, my dear 
Schaeffer. 

(Robert takes off gloves, coat and hat.) 

(Lucy hangs the coat and hat on a hook in upper right 

cornier. ) 
( Robert /'rty^^^ notes and papers ont of several pockets and 

puts them in book-case. ) 

Schaeffer* 

Ah, you are again depositing more of your work in your work- 
shop. 

Lucy* 

Where did you write it ? 

Robert* 

On the street— now you can call the street my workshop, if you 
like. 

Dr* Mandel* 

So, the street is your workshop. {Ironically.) Then the air 
must be your inspiration — the sun 3'our guide — the earth your 
companion . 

Schaeffer, 

And the sky your world — the moon your neighbor, and the stars 
vour friends. 



THE PI^AY WRIGHT, Ad III. 55 

Robert 

No — Schaeffer, there you are wrong — my friends are not stars, 
but fools. ^ All la ugh . ) 

(Robe;rt goes over to the stove and ivarins his hands, 
ScHAEFFKR goes over and joins Robert at stove. ) 

Schaeffer* 

{Aside to Robert.) I wish that I had such a fair cousin, and 
as devoted as she seems to be to you. 

Robert, 

{Laughs. ) Well, it does astonish me. I cannot account for it ; 
for this same fair cousin, when I called on her at her home not 
long ago, received me with cold indifference. 

Schaeffer, 

But now 3^ou are on the point of success — and, you know — men 
are judged by their success. 

Robert, 

{Laughs. ) Success is a very poor thing to judge by, my dear 
Schaeffer, for it spoils more men than failure. . 

Schaeffer, 

Please don't tell them that my success .spoiled me. 

Robert, 

Oh, no, fear not; you have done nothing in which to succeed or 
fail. 

Schaeffer, 

Then , what am I ? Nothing ? 

Robert, 

You are a continuation of another generation. 

Lena, 

{Appi'oaching them.) Robert, your friends think that while 
some of your critics praise you, others have been unjust and sim- 
ply ridiculed your play. 

Robert, 

I can't help that. There is in the drama as in politics a class of 
chronic kickers. 

(Mr. M0E1.NER and Mrs. Mockart enter right door. ) 



56 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 

Mr. Moelner. 

. Ah, here he is. {(lOcs over to RobkrT. ) 

Mrs. Mockart. 

We were looking for you, Robert. 

[Goes to Robert and Mr. Moelnp:r.) 

Df* MandeL 

( To SCHAEFFER.) Had we not better go? I think they want 
to talk over some family matters. ( They prepare to leaz'e. ) 

Lena. 

{Aside to her father.) Papa, invite Robert's friends to call 
on us. 

Mr. Moelner. 

{As they go tozvards left door.) Gentlemen: we are at home 
every Frida}-, and we should be pleased to have you call, if op- 
portunity presents itself. 

Mandel and Schaeffer. 

{Both. ) Thanks. We should be most happy to do so. 

Dr. MandeL 

I hope that before long we shall all meet together in a box to 
see Robert's play produced. 

Schaeffer. 

{Laughingly.) Mandel, 3^ou mean in a wooden box? [All 
laugh. ) 

(Mandei. and Schaeffer both exit left door.) 

Mr. Moelner. 

{Aside to Lucy. ) Go and tell Robert how glad you are that he 
is on the road to success. ( Change of voice. ) Incidentalh% ask 
him whether he has seen your magazine article. 

Lticy. 

Yes, Papa. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Be nice and cordial — although not too forward. Yet a little 
flattery and praise sometimes do a great deal of good. Men are 
so conceited, you know. 



THE PI.AYWRIGHT, Act III. 57 

Lucy* 

I think it will be of little use, papa. I fear he will never forgive 
us for having ignored him so long. 

Mr. Moelner. 

{Angrily. ) Make no explanations. Do as I tell you. 

Mrs* Mockart. 

( To Robert, aside. ) Be nice and good. I think uncle will do a 
great deal for you if you know how to take him. 

Robert. 

I cannot be more nice than I am, or more good than I always 
have been. 

Mrs. Mockarf. 

You know he is a rich and successful man. They have powef 
and they want to be respected. 

Robert. 
Every man desires to be respected, but they who want respect 
must show consideration for others and not misuse their advanta- 
ges. 

Mrs. Mockart. 
[Agitatedly.) Now — now — now. Don't begin again Robert. 
We have not seen them for years, and chance has again brought 
us together. It is always better to make a friend than an enemy, 
especially in your own family. 

Robert. 
I don't want to make an enemy of anybody. I know what he is 
here for, but that can never be. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Cannot be ? And why not ? He is after your welfare. 

Robert. 

Yes? I understand his scheme. But I got along without his 
assistance for a long time, and I can surely get along without him 
now. I am bound to win my battle alone — win, I say, mother ! 

Mr. Moelner. 

( To Robert, loud. ) Robert, did you see Lucy's article in the 
current magazine ? 

Robert. 

{Surprised.) Lucy's Article? Magazine? What was it? In 
what magazine? 



58 THE PLAYWRICxHT, Act III. 

Mr* Moclncr. 

I quite forget. What magazine was it, Lucy ? 

Lucy* 

It was a criticism on the late Horse Show — and it appeared in a 
magazine called "The Doings of the Horse." 

Robert. 

Oh ! About horses. I thought it might be about something 
else ; but I am not a horse ; I am a man, and care to read only of 
the doings of men — not horses. 

Lucy* 

But the horse — the Horse Show is so fashionable nowadays. 

Robert. 

Fashion is sometimes facetious. 

Lucy. 

But, it is nice— stylish, you know. 

Robert. 

Style is stupidity oftentimes. 

Lena. 

( To Mrs. Mockart.) I think our cousin Robert is ill-tempered 
and ill-humored to-day. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

No, it is the strain— the constant strain — the suspense that is 
killing him. 

Lucy. 
But papa is going to help him. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Your papa has not spoken to him yet. 

Lucy. 

Papa, why don't you tell Robert the object of your visit to-day ? 

Mr. Moelner. 

Be patient ; I wall. 

Etta. 

( 7t> Robert, aside.) Robert, look at our cousins Lucy's and 
Lena's dresses. How nice ! Aren't they rich ? And how expen- 
sive they must be — perfectl}' lovely ! 



THE PIvAYWRIGHT, Ad III. 59 

Robert. 

To look at. 

Etta. 

If 3'our play is accepted — and produced, and you make a lot of 
money, you must get me just such an identical dress as theirs. 
{Fei'Z'ently. ) Oh, it is nice to have nice things ! 

Robert. 

But nicer yet is that which you have got and other people can 
not get. 

Etta. 

But if you make a lot of mone}^, you can get them. 

Robert. 

Oh, yes, get them ; what was money made for but to get them ? 

Mr. Moelner. 

[Aloud. ) Robert, have you heard anything yet from Mr. 
Fulton ? 

Robert. 
No, not yet. He promised that if he liked my pla}^ he would 
call and see me personally. I may, though, hear from him to- 
night. 

Mr. Moelner. 
You expect to have a favorable answer from him, no doubt. 

Robert. 

Not more than from any other manager. There is nothing sure 
yet. You are not sure wnth any manager, even if he does accept 
your play. 

Mr. Moelner. 

So, even acceptance may not mean that he will produce ir, 

Robert. 

Yes. I shall have to be patient, that is all, but some day it shall 
be produced. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Robert, if I should offer you, in behalf of the family, to give 
you financial assistance, and produce the play at once, what would 
you say ? 

Robert. 

I should simply say you are too late. 



6o THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 

Mr. Moelner. 

( /;/ surprise. ) Too late ? 

Robert, 
Yes. 

Mrs, Mockart. 

Why too late ? 

Robert. 
There was a time when I asked uncle for help and his answer 
was that he had no money to invest in experiments ; that they do 
not pay and are not profitable. He advised me to go to people 
who can judge plays. I followed his advice — and his offer is now 
too late. 

Mrs. Mockart. 
No, it is not too late, 

Mr. Moelner. 

Don't imagine, Robert, if I offer to produce the play, that I 
believe it worth anything. I only do it to show you that you are 
no writer, and to bring you to your senses, so that you will waste 
no more time, but will go about your work — your profession. 

Robert. 

I know that — and still you are " too late." 

Mr. Moelner. 

Then you have assurance that the pla}- will be produced ? 

Robert. 
No. 

Mrs* Mockart. 

(/;/ surprise. ) No ? Why, then, do you refuse to accept uncle's 
assistance? 

Robert. 
Because I have confidence in myself. 

Mr. Moelner. 

How do you expect that your play will be produced? 

Robert. 

On its merits. 

Mr. Moelner. 

[With sarcasm.) On its merits'? — "Merits" is such a mis- 
eading word, when it is not helped along with mone}'. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 6i 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Then you depend for the production of 3'our pla}- on the strength 
of the few lines of notice you received ? 

Robert. 

No — but I have hope. 

Mrs, Mockart. 

But what a bitter word hope is — without help. 

Robert. 

Hope is a grand word to me. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Then you have evidently hope that somebody will give you 
financial assistance — and you prefer that strangers should have 
the benefit of your work rather than your own family ? 

Robert. 

{Cool, sarcastic manner.) Ah, you now speak of "my work" — 
" my work '' uncle. You have evidenth" forgotten yourself — and 
you already speak of "benefits" — "benefits." You fear that 
someone else may reap those benefits. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Ah, your " work " — " rubbish '' ! 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Robert — it is my wish, and I beg of you as your mother that 
this play should be produced by the help of your family, if it 
is to be produced at all. 

Robert. 

{Indignantly. ) Mother, when the lash of want was upon me, 
with a force that tore my flesh, the family did not offer me help 
to heal my wounds. Now my wounds begin to heal, and I want 
no help that is forced upon me ! 

Mrs. Mockart. 

But, it is your mother's wish. 

Robert. 

Even a mother may be wrong. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Ungrateful son ! You talk to me like that — to me, your mother. 



62 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 

who gave you life. Do you know that your very blood belongs 
to me. 

Mr. Moelncr. 
Freda — there is no use talking to him. You are speaking to a 
man with a " swelled head "! 

Robert. 

Before — I had a "foolish'" head — now I have a "swelled" 
head. But, no matter what head I have ; it is my own. 

Mr* Moelner. 

The few lines of notice that the critics gave you will be your 
ruin ! Remember, critics are only to criticise. Your success, so 
far, is on paper, and on paper only. The real judges are the 
people ; and wait, you will yet come begging to me to give you a 
chance for a hearing before the public ! 

Robert. 

I assure you, I will not. The one thing that makes me feel 
more than anything else that I shall succeed is your offer to help 
me ; for where you offer to help, there must be an assurance of 
coming benefits— benefits. 

Mr. Moelner. 

[In disgust. ) I see now, there is no use of talking with you ! — 
L/Ucy ! — Lena ! — Get ready ! We will go ! 

Mrs. Mockart. 

(E.rcitedty.) Wait, Albert !— Albert— wait ! Be patient. It 
does not concern you alone- it concerns me as well — for if he will 
not give in, I will have to go too. I have suffered long enough — 
I cannot stand it any longer. 

Mr. Moelner. 

What does he care — this obstinate, ungrateful son. 

Robert. 

You say I am ungrateful. Can you state a single instance ? In 
what am I ungrateful ? 

Mr. Moelner. 

Yes — I will give you an instance. [Quietly.) Robert, what- 
ever you may say against me, I have helped you time and time 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 63 

again. When you read your play at the professor's house — when 
you took so decided a step — why did you not invite me and my 
family ? 

Robert* 
Because — you don't belong to that class. 

Mr* Moelner. 

{Lifuriated. ) I don't belong to that class ? — and a beggar like 
you belongs to it? 

Robert, 
You don't mean that, uncle ? 

Mr. Moelner. 

I mean every word that I say — you are a beggar — and if it had 
not been for me, you would have been starving. You are a beg- 
gar- 
Robert. 

{Infuriated.^ Take those words back, uncle — take that word back 
— the very air of this room ought to strangle you. You know very 
well yourself that it is a lie. I have been honestly and patiently 
working for a certain purpose for many years — and the help you 
gave me was not yours — but mine — mine — The very clothes you 
wear — the house you possess — and everything you have — belongs 
to me. For, with your cheating and lies, you took away the work on 
which my father had spent twenty years. If it had not been for 
my father you would have been to-day a beggar — and morally you 
are nothing but a beggar anyway — 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Robert !— Robert '.—What is that talk for? What is the use? 
Why bring in your father ? What has he to do with it. That 
affair has long been forgotten. 

Robert. 

I shall never forget it ! And I want to let him know that he is 
a cheat and a lie. That he has not sense enough to acquire 
anything — not to speak of wealth. That what help he gave us, 
should have been willingly and freely given — not have been thrown 
in our faces. 

Mrs. Mockart, 

Now, keep still. You have lost your senses. You don't know 



64 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 

what you are talking about. He came here to help you, and you 
have done nothing but deliberately insult and offend him. 

(Mr. MoeIvNEr motions to the girts to get their wraps froui 

the next room.) 
( The girls go into the back parlor, there is a long silence; 

the girls return with their zuraps, and Etta helps them 

to put them on.) 

Mr* Moelnen 

I would not care to argue with a man who has a temper, and is 
at the same time a fool. But it seems rather queer, that people 
w^hom only a few months ago you had never heard of— nor seen 
before — should be preferred as friends — advisers — to your own 
family. But, I want to warn you, with all your cleverness, these 
people who only a few months ago, were perfect strangers, may, 
by the slightest misunderstanding, in a still shorter time throw 
you over and forget the mere fact of your existence 

Robert* 

I am sure that will not be the case — for they are people who 
live a life for life's sake and not for mere material existence ; and 
besides, as it happens, they were the first to volunteer to help me 
and I am bound to stand by them, no matter what happens or how 
much they may change. 

Mr. Moelner. 

{Emphatically.) It seems to me, that what keeps you so sud- 
denly — strangely and inexplicably tied to them must undoubtedly 
be not so much the Professor, as the Professor's daughter's petti- 
coat. 

{Prolonged silence. Robert ^c)*?^ and rests left hand on the 
table, -with his back to the others and cuith boived head. ) 

Robert. 

{Sloruly, quietly and emphatically.) Uncle — if it were not for 
the presence of your daughters — and respect for my mother — I 
should turn you out of the house. 

(Mr. MorIvNER opens ri^ht door, and motioning to his 
daughters to go ont, folloivs them and slams the door. 
Robert sinks into a chair. Btta goes and kneels by 
him^ and, leaning against him, weeps. Mrs. Mock- 
art, on the other side of the room, sits as if bewildered 
and in deep pain and thought. ) 



THE PI.AYWRIGHT, Ad III. 65 

Robert. 

Etta — Etta— what's the matter? What are you crying for^ 

(Etta rises luithout speaking and goes out sobbing. ) 

Mrs. Mockart. 

( Going to Robert. ) Robert — you have deeply insulted 3^our 
uncle. 

Robert. 
I told you the truth. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

[In a different tone.) No, Robert, you have deliberatel}^ in- 
sulted your uncle. 

Robert. 

If you call truth an insult, then you are right. Has he not 
lied and cheated us out of father's work? Was not father entitled 
to a share and interest in the business before he died? Who laid 
the foundation of this vast fortune that he posse.sses ? Was it not 
father's conscientious and faithful efforts — efforts that were be- 
yond his strength — and, I may say, shortened his life? Like an 
heroic soldier, who although wounded and knows that the wound 
is fatal, he battled on ! What did he do it for, but to build up 
this business, that his family should be provided for when he was 
no more? And after he died uncle's miserly character showed 
itself — he took advantage of your ignorance and helplessness and 
swallowed up everything. 

• Mr5. Mockart. 

That is a question of the past, and who was right ? I don't 
know What concerns us now is the present, and at present 
{slozvly and emphatically) we need uncle ; you will call him back, 
Robert. 

Robert. 

Mother, I will not call him back. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

[Emphatically. ) You must call him back. 

Robert. 

Never ! Never ! 

Mrs. Mockart. 

[Onietly.) Then I shall leave you ! 



66 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad III 

Robert* 

K^In consternation. ) Mother, surely you are not in earnest? 

■ 

Mrs* Mockart 
I am in earnest as I am in sorrow. 

Robert, 

( In greater surprise. ) Mother ! — and Etta ! What will become 
of her? 

Mrs, Mcckart. 

Etta will have to choose between 3^ou and me. 

Robert, 

Mother, you would not do that ? 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Will you do as I tell you? (Robert is silent.) Now, I see — 
what your uncle Albert has foreseen — and he was right. He could 
not understand that the interest of these lately acquired friends, — 
these strangers — with their sudden and inexplicable influence 
over you — is not simply their interest in you and your writings — 
but some selfish motive ; and so far you have had nothing from 
them — simply their false flattery — and for this foolishness you 
cast aside your family. Yes, even your mother. 

Robert, 

Oh, mother ! You are unjust to them, and you bitterly wrong 
me {looking her in the face. ) You are w^rong, mother. 

( There is a prolonged silence. ) 

Mrs, Mockart, 

Whether I am wrong or not, only the future can show. But, 
now you have treated your uncle unfairly and unjustly, and either 
you will go and call him back or I shall go (pauses a moment. ) 
Your answer ? 

(Robert makes no reply.) 

Mrs, Mockart, 

Then, I shall leave the house immediately. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad III. 67 

Robert. 

jNIother ! — do whatever you think is right. 

I Robp:rt sinks into a chair, resting his elboivs on his knees. ) 

( INlRS. ISIocKART slo'ccly exits teft door. ) 

[After a pause Robert gets up and goes to the door where 

his mother zvent out, as if about to cat! her, but finally 

goes over to the right corner and puts on his coat and 

hat and goes over to the right door. ) 

Robert, 

( To himself. ) No. I will not. 

f Takes off coat and hat and returns to his former position. ) 
( /;/ a moment the bell is heard ringing and Etta is seen 
coming out from centre door, then turns and zvipes her 
eyes and goes out left door — rettirning opens the door for 
the Y^OVESSO^ and his ci'ife and daughter, zvho enter ; 
Etta closes the door behind them. When they see that 
Robert is engrossed in thought, Miss Powers motions 
to her father and mother to retire into the back parlor, 
luhich they do ; she remains standing at left zvall ; Ro- 
bert hearing someone.) 

Robert. 

Etta, why don't you open the door? I thought I heard the bell. 
{Pauses. ) Why don't you answer Etta ? 

I IMiss Powers makes a gesture indicating her embarrass- 
ment.) 

Robert. 
Come here, my dear sister, 

I Miss Powers again indicates her inability to comply, luith 
another gesture, pointing to the door of the back parlor, 
where her parents are. ) 

Robert. 

But I see, you are angry with me, too — but don't worry. Mother 
will not leave us. In a very short time everything will be all 
right. 

Miss Powers. 

Everything is all right — your play is accepted and will be pro- 
duced. 

(Robert. /;/ startled surprise, springs up and looks first 



68 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad III. 

io'cuard the right — and seeing no one there turns in the 
other direction, and to his astonishi//ent sees Miss 
POWKRS. ) 

Robert, 

Is it really you, Miss Powers? Or is it simply an illusion of my 
imagination ? Were your words really true? Or was it a dream ? 

He starts toward her ; as he does so she passes to the right 
and the Professor and Mrs. Powers appear at the 
right side of the folding doors. ) 

Prof. Powers. 

Yes, it is true, Mr. Fulton has accepted your play, and his own 
theatrical company \vill soon produce it. 

Robert. 

[Enthusiastically crying out.) So, then, at last — my dreamland 
—my aspirations — become a actuality. J03' fills my soul ! I have 
reached the highest point of my life ! The suspense is over ! I 
am relieved— I am more than happy ! 

(/;/ a dazed condition ^ov,tjki goes to left door, zchere his 
mother zvent out.) 

[Pointing to the door.) My poor mother is behind this door 
making preparations to leave me. Poor mother -you have mis- 
taken my pleasure for pain — and my efforts for sufTering— and 
with a mother's heart you saw but failure and disappointment in 
store for me. But now comes the dawn of my success, and relief 
is at hand It is here ! You will no more depress — discourage 
me — for you will see that I was right— and you were wrong — and 
right I am. [Pointing to right door ivhere his nncle 7vent out.) 
And you, poor uncle, who called me a beggar, you are blind to 
what is beautiful — and do not regard a man as a man — you weigh 
him only by his gold — you do not know the purpose of man's ex- 
istence. Therefore you could not conceive the purpose of my aims 
and efforts — and now — I hope the results may open your eyes. 
You will no more call me a penniless beggar. ( Turning to the 
Professor and Mrs. and Miss Powers.) They say that you are 
strangers to me — mere strangers — human beings to be strangers 
to each other ! But to yoii I have to give my utmost thanks. You 
understand me. You know the longings of my mind and heart. 
You felt the fire that was burning in me — and with the true 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad III. 69 

friendship that is born from a similarity of thought and feeling, 
you spurred me on in my efforts. My heart goes out to you — and 
m\- thanks ( to the Professor) as a man to a man. 

( Falls exhaiistcdly on chair. ) 

Mrs, Powers. 

[Going to Robert.) You don't seem well, Doctor. Is anything 
the matter? 

Miss Powers. 

You are ill. ( Ojferino- hiui a glass of zuater. ) 

Robert* 

Drinks.) Thank you. I am all right now ; I am all right. I 
was surprised and astonished at your presence — by the good news 
— the best things come unexpectedly. My good fortune has over- 
powered me {Slight pause. Rising.) I beg your pardon — 
won't you be seated? {They take chairs.) 

Mrs. Powers. 

This is your office, Doctor? 

Robert. 
Yes, this is ray office, study and everything combined. 

( Going to bookcase, ivhere is Mss. and opens it. ) 
Professor, this will interest you ; this is my workshop. You see 
I have in it enough material to work upon for the next twent}- 
years 

( They all go over to bookcase: the Professor examining same.) 

Robert. 

{To all.) You see these boxes ; each of these contains ideas for 
a different play. Whenever a new idea strikes me, I just write it 
down and put it with the other material for that play. 

Prof* Powers. 

{Reading. ) A Romance of a Roman Prince. 

Robert. 

That is the title of an historical play. 

Miss Powers. 

{Reading.) Mr. Phillips of Philadelphia. 



70 THE PLAY\VRIC;HT, Ar/ III. 

Robert* 

That is going to be a comedy. The principal character is a 
German-American {laiio/iino/y) who made a fortnne out of Phihi- 
delphia poultry. 

Prof. Powers. 

And 1 suppose spent his money in New York ? 

Mrs. Powers. 

{Readiiio;A His Partner's Wife. 

Robert. 

That is a play of American life. 

Miss Powers. 

{Reading again.) Mr. Roche of Rochester. 

Robert* 

That is a comedy which deals with a very rich oil man, who 
spent his best years in making a fortune, and neglected his life as 
a man — then came to New^ York on a visit and fell in love, for the 
first time in his life. 

Prof. Powers* 

And afterwards was sorry for it ? 

Robert. 

No, he felt sorry, that it did not happen before. 

Mrs. Powers. 

And are the stories of all these play.s written out ? 

Robert. 

Oh, no ; I carry them in my head for years. 

Prof. Powers. 

It will be easy sailing for all these {pointing to bookcase) after 
your play has been produced. I am certain that the morning after 
the opening night the world will proclaim "A new writer is dis- 
covered." 

Robert* 
I only hope they will not say "A new^ dreamer was discovered." 

{All tauo/}.) 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 71 

Prof. Powers* 

History so often repeats itself. Some men have gone about for 
years, suffering and struggling for recognition, and afterwards the 
world wondered how could such a man exist without hearing 
of him. 

Mrs* Powers. 

And that is what some of the critics predicted about your play. 
They could not understand, wh}^ not even one manager could see 
anything of value in your writings. And they added, "this shows, 
again, that many managers deal in materials that they have but 
little knowledge of." 

Prof. Powers. 

Yes, even Mr. Fulton had to be influenced by Mr. Webster's 
opinion and mine, before he decided to produce the play. 

Robert. 

But, is it a certainty that he will produce it ? 

Prof. Powers. 

Oh, yes, a certainty beyond doubt. He called upon me to-day 
and told me that his own company would put it in actual rehearsal 
next week, and they, j'ou know, are the best we have in this 
country to-day. 

Robert. 

I am glad, indeed, and if I succeed I shall attribute my success 
to you. Professor. 

{At ttiis point Mrs. Mockart enters teft door, dressed to go 
out ; as she sees tlie strangers sJie stops and remains 
standing, gazing at t/ieni. ) 

Robert. 

This is my mother — Professor Powers. {T/iey alt rise.) 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Yes, I am his unfortunate mother. 

Prof. Powers. 
Why unfortunate? I should rather say you are fortunate, ver}- 
fortunate indeed to have a son possessed with such natural gifts 
as to become a writer, a dramatist. 



72 'THE PLAYWRK^HT, Act III. 

Mrs. Mcckart 

I sliould prefer that he had fewer gifts and be more of a son. 

Prof, Powers* 

It is true that a talented boy will be more apt to neglect his 
family and be more attentive to his work, but so much the better 
for his family, and it does not imply that he is any less his 
mother's son, because he is able to do things that seem to you out 
of the ordinary. 

Mrs, Mockart. 

I have a fear of those people who do extraordinary things. 

ProL Powers, 

It is only extraordinary to people who don't try — but very or- 
dinary to those who make efforts. Now, Mrs. Mockart, I was a 
poor farmer's boy, and my father never cared that I should be any 
more than a farmer like himself. But I was not contented to 
raise potatoes in summer and to sleep in winter. I had a craving 
for knowledge, to know more about the sky that I saw^ with my 
eyes above me — to know more about the people who lived around 
me, so I decided to go to the cit}^ ; I ran away from home — with- 
out means — without friends — with no one — to get an education. 
At my first attempt I failed. When I returned home, my father 
and my friends mocked me and ridiculed me with their sneers and 
their stupidity. I did not care, but I tried, and tried again and 
again, and when at last success came, and I became a college pro- 
fessor, they thought that I had done an extraordinary thing. It is 
the same thing with your son Robert ; }ou consider him now 
queer and neglectful ; after his success, you will see him with dif- 
ferent eyes. 

Mrs* Mockart, 

But here, Professor, is a different story ; you studied — you suc- 
ceeded; but Robert, after getting his education, branched off in a 
different line. He wants to write, but to write a man must have 
knowledge — experience — that requires a lifetime. 

Prof, Powers, 

But that's just where you are wrong, Mrs. Mockart. The man 
who attempts to succeed in writing -by learning and experience 
is never and never will be a writer— in the true meaning of the 
word. That is a knowledge that comes from within the man him- 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 73 

self — and no matter what line he has learned — nature forces him 
to give it up and yield to this instinctive and intuitive knowledge 
— and that is what Robert has done. He writes from spontaneous 
impiilse, like a true writer. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Professor, you are talking silly prattle^ and I am sorry to tell 
you, that the thirty years you have learned and taught books, 
have made you little better than a foolish child. 

Robert. 

Mother, the Professor is my friend. What 5^ou have against 
me concerns me and me onl}^ but I insist that you do not intuit 
my friends. 

Mrs. Mock art. 

{Sneering.) Insist — indeed — I am done w^ith you and do not 
want to know you or your friends. They are strangers to me ; 
I never saw them before in my life— and I don't want to see them 
again. 

Robert. 

( /;/ the utmost anger.) Mother, you don't know what ^-ou are 
saving. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

You are driving me to my grave. 

Mrs. Powers. 

INIrs. Mockart, although I do not wish to interfere — but I must. 
You are not only doing a great injustice to Robert, but j'ou are 
simply tormenting yourself and him unnecessarily. On the con- 
trary, I would fight with my last breath to help a young man who 
tried to accomplish something higher and better. You ought to 
be proud of him, and rather praise and encourage than censure 
and discourage. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

You tell me that — me, his mother — who nourished him and 
watched him grow from day to day ; who worked and tried to 
educate him at the expense of all others ; he represented all my 
hopes of success — the flower of my life — yes, my very life, and 
3'ou think that I, his mother, would try to spoil his career— as you 
sa}^? If I only knew he was going in the right direction. When 
we plant corn, we expect corn. When you plant flowers, you ex- 
pect flowers, nothing else. When you study law, you expect to 



74 THE PLAYWRK^HT, Act III. 

be a lawyer. When you study chemistry, you expect to become a 
chemist — but he has studied one thini( and is trying to become 
another. 

(Etta cntcrino- centre door. ) 

Prof. Powers. 

That is no comparison at all, Mrs. Mockart. It is not a question 
of study or learning. His writing is a creation — an invention of 
his dramatic instinct. I^ike the inventor, he sees certain things 
before him and he reproduces them in substance, without study 
or learning, and the same thing with a painter, who sees a picture 
in his imagination and paints it on his canvas, and this also 
applies to Robert. He sees and feels certain characters and he 
writes them down. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

Those stories are very good for you to tell to Robert, but not to 
me. I may not have the education that you have, but life's ex- 
perience has hardened me and educated me to be practical, and I 
say you are simply talking nonsense. 

Robert. 

Mother, why do you insult them ? They have not done any- 
thing to you. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

They have not done anything to me ? Why the}' have stolen 
my life's work like highway robbers, with their foolish empty 
flattery they have enticed you from your humble home. You 
never look at anybody — even your own mother — and you keep 
crying out, "These are the people who understand me ; these are 
the people whom I want ; they know my value. They are the 
real people." They look to me like educated fools. 

Robert. 

If you continue to insult my friends, either you or I must leave 
this house immediately. 

Mrs. Mockart. 

So — you want me to go — you actually turn me out of this house. 
Ver}^ well, I will go, but before I leave I will destroy your work 
as you have mine. 

( Rustics to twotccasc and set "/no- a tot of J/ss. tears tlieni it p. \ 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act III. 75 

— thro'cus them on the floor, and then throies them into 
thefii^e. Before she can return for more Miss PoWiJRS 
closes the doors of case and stands before them ivith out- 
spread arms. Mrs. Mockart tnrjis, and seeing her zuay 
barred assumes attitude of indignant astonishment.) 

(quick curtain.) 

{\i'V:t\ going to ROBERT /(7//5 in his arms iceeping. ) 
{At rise of curtain on call, Mrs. Mockart at door about to 
exit, loolzing angrily at others. Etta on Robert's 
arm, zveeping.) 



END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



76 THE PLAVWRICHT, Ad IV. 



ACT FOURTH. 

( A room behind the stage. The scene takes place durino; the first 
night's performance of the play in a Neiv York theatre. There 
are two large doors in the centre of the back scene leading to 
the stage, also a door on the left and one on the right. In the 
room there are different paraphernalia for stage luork, furni- 
ture, etc. As the curtain rises, Robert and Mr. Fur.TON are 
seen peeping in at the middle door, at the stage. ) 

Robert 

How quiet the audience is. 

Mr» Ftilton* 

Cool. Very cold — actually like ice. 

Robert, 

The play is onl}^ at its Ijeginning. Not a single point of im- 
portance has as yet been brought out, 

Mr* Folton. 

I hope luck will be with us to-night, and that our undertaking 
will be a success. ( They shake Jiands. ) 

Robert, 

I hope it will. {Listens.) But they are so silent — so quiet. 

Mr. Fulton. 

That you don't understand. Perfect silence is the best sign, for 
it means perfect attention, and perfect attention is admiration — 
and that is better than applause, 

( Here applause is heard from the outside. ) 

Mr. Fulton. 

( Peeping through the door quickly ) That is nothing — only the 
entrance of a favorite actor. 

[Vlie Leading Man enters from left, and the Leading 



THE PI.AYWRIGHT, Act IV. 77 

Lady fj^om right. They meet, go to centre door and 
stand waiting for their cue. ) 

Robert 

( To Leading Man.^ No — no. You enter from the other side; 
she enters from the centre. 

(Leading Man tnrns to go to the right, turns bac/^ and 
conies to centre.) 

Robert. 
I wish you success to-night, Mr. Rodman {Giving him his 
hand. ) Do your best — your very best. 

Leading Man. 

I will do my best — but my success depends upon my luck. 

Robert. 

Please play that scene in this act as I told you before, and you 
will see afterwards that I was right, although I have not the ex- 
perience that you have. 

Leading Man. 

I will see. It all depends on how the public take it. I will 
first play it my way, and if I see that the public don't take to it, 
I will play it your way. 

Robert. 

Then you propose to follow your own fancy first, and only after 
that fails, my idea comes next. 

Leading Man. 

- Yes, and I come first. {E.vits right door.) 

Mr. Fulton. 
[Alarmed.) They cough— they cough. Damn them! they 
must all have the grippe. [ To Leading Lady. ) Your make up 
is natural and gives your part an atmosphere of loveliness and 
charm, Miss Strong. I spared no expense or work on my part, 
and now our work is in your hands. If you succeed, we succeed. 
If you fail, we fail. 

Miss Strong — Leading Lady. 
I have always done my best — but to-night I will do the very 
best I can, not only for your sake and mine, but for the new 
writer, who deserves undoubted recognition. 



78 THE PLAYWRICiHT, Act IV. 

Robert. 

Quick, Miss Strong. There is your cue. 

(Miss Strong ^'.r/A~ ^///r/Vj' ,• as she docs so, pro/oui^ed and 
enthusiastic applause is heard. ) 

(Leading Man re-oitcis i'io-ht.) 

Robert. 

( 7\) Leading Man. ) It was good — it was good. You see I 
was right. The audience did not take to it the way you wanted 
it, but rather liked it in a comedy way, as I created it. 

Leading: Man* 

" Created it " is good. / created it ! You mean you zvrote it. 

Robert. 

But you see the audience like the scene only in a comedy way. 

Leading; Man. 

What does this damned fool of an audience know ? They don't 
know what they want. They come to laugh, and if I could only 
make up for my part in a night-shirt, they would laugh more than 
at any comedy you can ever write. 

Robert. 

You are sore because they don't want to take your acting 
seriously. 

Leadingf Man. 

What do they understand of what art is — seriously or not 
seriously — or what an artist is ? 

{Applause is heai'd in the theatre as the Leading Lady 
enters at centre door. ) 

Leading; Lady. 

( To Leading Man.) Hello, John. What are you doing here? 
You are supposed to be now in Holland. 

Leading; Man. 

In the play I am supposed to be in Holland, and it makes no 
cifference if, personally, I am in hell. 

Leading; Lady. 

Wh}-, you haven't done so badly. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT. Act II 



79 



Mn Fulton* 

He is sore because the audience didn't take to the scene as he 
wanted to plav it. 

RobeH* 

The next scene you can play seriously. You are supposed to 
be an impulsive and impatient character — but in the next scene 
you will be in the presence of the lady you are in love with, and, 
no matter how rough a man is under some circumstances, he can 
behave himself like a gentleman. If 3-ou should play that scene 
in a rough and boisterous manner like the last one, it would be 
an utter failure, because it would be false and unnatural, for a 
man, no matter how unpolished he is, in the presence of his lady- 
love will be kind and sympathetic. He will hide the rough 
points and will make an effort to bring out the finest of his 
nature. 

Leadings Man. 

( To Leading Lady, sotto voce. ) The way that kid talks gives 
me a pain. He speaks in a manner that leads one to imagine 
that he is great. I should like to know where he learned it all. 

Leading: Lady* 

What do you want, John ? No matter if he has learned it 
not, he understands it. It is born in him. 



or 



Leading: Man, 

Like you say that you were an actress when you were in your 
cradle. 

Leading: Lady* 
I will be an actress, even when I am in my coffin. 

Leading Man. 

Certainly ; you will be a dead actress. But, why talk this way ? 
The kind of audience that exist to-day don't surprise me at all. 
Look at a mere understudy — little Joe. What a success he made 
to-day, and how the people roared with laughter at every word he 
uttered — a mere fresh understudy — without any schooling or ex- 
perience. 

Leading: Lady. 

I think he deserves it. He w^as clever. 



8o THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IV. 

Leading Man. 

Yes, it was pretty good — but it was forced — and besides, such a 
gentlemanly role can only be played by an actor who really is a 
gentleman. 

Leading Lady. 

What difference does it make ? He accomplished what was 
asked of him, and to arouse laughter a man must possess wit ; 
just as a man cannot impart virtue if he does not possess virtue. 
If he made them laugh, he must possess some of the qualities of a 
comedian. 

Leading Man. 
Nonsense —you can make people laugh by a stick. ( A cat 
passing by. ) You see that cat. Open those two doors ( pointing 
to centre), let that cat walk out on to the stage, and they will 
laugh more than at all the wit an actor can utter — or that a writer 
can write. 

(^Applause is heard inside in tlie tJieatre, and from tlie centre 
door other actors call. ) 

Actors* 

( Calling. ) Miss Strong, the Act is over. You are called. 

^SJie runs out, followed by the Leading Man. Robert 
and yi^. Vvvto'i^i peep out at centre door. The clamor 
outside indicates great enthusiasm. Pause. Second call 
for Leading Lady. ) 

Robert. 

That is quite encouraging, Mr. Fulton, don't you think so ? 

Mr. Fulton. 

The applause has an earnest and enthusiastic ring. Of course, 
we cannot depend entirely upon that ; people in the theatre are 
apt — out of politeness— to look pleasant, when they are really 
very much bored. 

Robert. 

So disappointment and displeasure will not make an American 
audience discourteous? 

Mr. Fulton. 
No. — And real merriment give them real pleasure, and they are 
the first to appreciate and applaud anything of genuine merit. 

{Enter Leading Man and Leading Lady, folloiccd by 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IV. 8i 

other actors, centre door. As they do so another outburst 
of applause is heard. They run out again, trying to drag 
the Manager out with them— failing to take him — they 
cry out to the Author who also escapes. ) 

Mr. Fulton. 

{To the Actors. ) No — no— not now. After the second act. 

( They exit and re-enter three times. Lot of stage hands 
come in at the centre door zvith scenery and other para- 
phernalia.) 

Leading; Lady. 
( To Mr. FuiyfON. ) Mr. Fulton, there is no change in costume 
for the next act. Tell the orchestra to play a popular waltz. 

Mr. Fulton. 

I am very sorry — that is against my rules. 

Leading: Man. 

( To himself. ) Oh, damn your rules ! 

Robert. 

Rules are only made to be broken. Give them freedom, and 
they will play the second act with more pleasure. 

(Mr. FuIvTon^c^^ to the speakifig-tube and tells the leader to 
play a waltz. Leading Lady asks Robert to dance 
with her, and there is a general mei'riment in which the 
other actors join, while the stage hands continue to carry 
scenery iti and out, preparing for the next act. A boy 
hands a card to Mr. Fui^ton, ivhich he passes over to 
Robert. ) 

Mr. Fulton. 
( To Robert. ) I think that they are some friends of yours, 
Robert . 

Robert. 
( To boy. ) Show them in, Tom. 

{Music stops and all the actors disperse in different direc- 
tions. Boy goes out and returns zuith Mr. Moei^ner 
and his two daughters. ) 

Robert. 

Hello, uncle. [Shakes hands with him, also with his cousins.) 



82 THK PLAYWRIGHT, Act I\\ 

The t'a'o young ladies are in evening dress. ) How do you like the 
play ? 

Mr. Moelner, 
It was very good, Robert 

Lucy. 

Robert, truly, I never believed that you were capable of doing 
such work. 

Lena. 

I never thought that your writings w^ould appeal to so fashion- 
able and literary an audience. 

Robert. 

You people never believed that I was capable of doing any- 
thing. 

Mr. Moelner. 
Of course, you cannot judge the success of a play by the first 
act — but so far, so good. 

Robert. 
If they like my first act, they will like the second, which is 
T:ietter still. 

Lena. 

It is strange. But the greatest applause and enthusiasm came 
from the top. 

Robert. 

That is just what I wanted. They are the real critics. Down- 
stairs they will look at each other and say, " It is clever." On the 
first floor, they will perhaps say, "It is good," and give a little 
encouragement; but on the top, if it is good and they like it, they 
w^ill applaud until their strength gives out ; and if you happen to 
«it near one of them, he may offer you some of his peanuts and 
tell you that it is a hell of a good play — it's " all right.'" 

{Enter Prof. Vowz^s, follozved by Mrs. and Miss Powers, 
left door.) 

Robert. 
Professor, let me introduce to you my uncle, Mr. Moelner. 
Uncle, this is Professor Powers, who has kindly consented to be- 
come my future father-in-law. 

Mr. Moelner. 

So, the Professor has consented. Why, this is a surprise to me. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IV. 83 

Prof* Powers* 

But, Robert is ver}- deserving. 

Mr* Moelner* 

Yes, yes ; I always liked him ; lie is in every respect all right, 
and he would be a very good fellow if it were not for his foolish 
writings. 

Prof. Powers. 

But, to-night, we all have enjoyed his pla}-. 

Mr* Moelner* 

That is right [^Diusingly). We have enjoyed it. I never thought 
of that — that Robert's writings might bring joy to others. 

Robert* 

Mrs. Powers, allow me to introduce to you my two cousins — 
[turning to Miss Powers ) and Miss Powers — your future cousins, 
the Misses Moelner. 

Lucy* 

Delighted — to meet our future cousin [sliakes hands ivit/i her). 

Lena* 

( To Robert, as she shakes hands also.) Then you are entitled to 
double congratulations. The possible success of j'our play and 
your assured success with Miss Powers. 

Miss Powers* 

His success as a writer I never doubted — and in half an hour 
more the people will confirm it. 

Lena* 

The first act was pretty good. 

Mrs* Powers* 

And the second act is still better. 

Lucy* 

But a very decisive act, for upon it depends the failure or the 
success of the play. 

Miss Powers* 

Success beyond a doubt. 

(Robert zva/ks up and down nervously, and then goes over 
to the Professor and his Uncle. ) 



84 THE PIvAYWRIOHT, Act IV. 

Lena* 

If it had not been for my father, Robert would never have been 
recognized avS a writer. 

Miss Powers* 
I understand that your father objected to his writing. 

Lucy* 

He only said it — but in his heart he meant that he would like 
to see him succeed as a writer. 

Miss Powers. 

Oh, I see ! — He objected to it so long as he doubted his success; 
had he been sure of that, he might, possibly, have had no objection. 

Robert. 

( To the Professor. ) Did any of the critics drop any remarks 
about the first act. 

Prof. Powers. 

No — they generally reserve their opinions until the next morn- 
ing — but the first-nighters seemed to like it. 

Mr. Moelner. 

The acting was very good, I think. 

Robert. 

Wait uncle, till the next act ; there is where the opportunity for 
acting comes in. 

Mr. Moelner. 

I wish you luck, my boy. I am very much interested so far, 
and will be overjoyed if you succeed ; for, truly speaking, I never 
believed you to have any capability for such work. 

Prof. Powers. 

Capability is one thing, but his persistent perseverance is what 
he deserves credit for, for the one is useless without the other. 

{A good many peopte are seen rusliijig out at centre door^ 
and back agahi and a number of actors enter from the 
left and go out at the centre door, othei'S standing ivait- 
ing for their cues ; clapping is heard, and one calls — 
" The act is up,'' and they go out at left door— the 
visitors headed by Professor Powers and Mrs. Pow- 
?:rs make a rush to go out.) 



THE PI.AYWRIGHT, Act IV. 85 

Miss Powers, 

[Aside to tier nwttier as stie goes. ) Mama, let me stay here. I 
want to watch the next act near Robert. 

( Ttie Professor and Mrs. Powers exit at rigtit door. ) 

Robert, 

[Aside to tiis uncle -) By the wa}^, uncle, is my mother in your 
box. 

Mr. Mcelner. 

No, but I am sure that she is somewhere in the audience. Have 
you not seen her here to-night? 

Robert. 

I have never seen her since that memorable day that she left 
the house. 

Mr. Moelner. 
You ought to go out and hunt her up. 

Robert. 

I will — as soon as this act is started. 

Mr. Moelner. 

Come Lucy. Come Lena. 

(Lucy and Lena peep out at ttie audience ttirougti ttie stage.) 

Lucy. 

( To tier fattier. ) Oh, what a grand sight the different colors 
of the ladies' dresses make, 

Lena. 

' Now, I can imagine why actors get stage-fright. 

Lucy. 

If so many eyes were staring at me at one time, I would be pai- 
alyzed with fright. 

Lena. 
Therefore, you are not an actress. 

Lucy. 

I am glad I am not an actress. 

Mr. Moelner. 

[Aside to tiis daugtiters, pointing at Robert and Miss Powers.) 
What do you think of them ? 



86 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act JV. 

Lucy. 

I don't see air\yt\\mg great in tier. 

Lena,* 

She's odd. 

Mr. Moelner. 

He is odd — and she is odd. That makes two odds.- 

Lena. 

(To Lucy.) Anyway, Lucy, he did not think you odd. 

Lucy* 

I don't care. 

Lena* 

Now, sister, you will have to be contented with that short, fat, 
little cloakniaker — Haynes. 

Lucy. 

And you will have to console yourself with that tall, slim, hun- 
gry, ugly-looking Doctor Mandel. 

Lena* 

Do you hear that, Papa ? 

Mn Moelner* 

Come now, stop your quarreling. 

( T/iey go a7id offer congratidations to Robert and MiSvS 
Powers and exit teft door.) 

Miss Powers. 

( Zb Robert.) Fear not, Robert; good fortune has been with 
us right along ; it brought us together ; it gave 3'ou a good mana- 
ger and good actors, and it will take us over this dangerous point 
in safety. 

Robert* 

I wish it were all over; the suspense is terrible. 

Miss Powers. 

The jury will decide in our favor, and then the suspense will be 
over. 

{LaugJiler and tlien stiriefcs of laiigliter heard from the 
outside. ) 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IV. 87 

Miss Powers. 

{Raising her hands. ) Hear them laugh — hear them shriek. 

Robert. 

{Excitedly.) I knew it would come — knew it was bound to 
come. [Spontaneous applause is heard.) 
( They peep out on stage. 1 

Robert. 

The leading lady is playing grandly ; she deserves all the credit. 

Miss Powers, 

What a splendid scene that is ! 

Robert. 

It is the strongest in the play. 

{Another outburst of applause is heard, with acclamations of 
approval. Mr. Fui^tox rushes in right door.) 

Mr. Fulton. 

( To Robert. ) The play is a hit beyond a doubt, {embraces him) 
You are a success, indeed. 

Robert. 

You and your actors deserve the credit. I only wrote the play, 
but your actors bodied forth the characters and have given life 
and expression to my^ thoughts. 

{Another outburst of applause is heard from the outside. ) 

Mr. Fulton. 

( To Miss Powers — shaJ^ing hands. ] Miss Powers, our under- 
taking is a success, indeed. I never saw so enthusiastic a recep- 
tion given of a play- in all of my twenty-five years of experience. 
{more applause is heard. ) You hear that. It is not only spontan- 
eous, but it is enthusiastic and well-meant applause. 

{A few actors enter at the centre door. ) 

First Actor. 

( To manager .) It's a hit Mr, Fulton. 

Second Actor. 

It's a success, Mr. Fulton. 



88 THE PLAYWRIGHT, Ad IV. 

Third Actor. 

Author, it's jjjood. 

Leading Lady* 

I have never played to such an enthusiastic crowd in my life. 
They simply killed me with kindness. I couldn't speak a line 
without their interrupting me. 

( ^l fCii' actoj'S are dispersed riohi and left, others eome in, 
and some theatrical paraphernalia are distributed avionir 
them, after which they exit through the centre door. ) 
{^o^v^vci ivalks lip and down the stage in a state of great 
nervous excitement. ) 

Miss Powers* 

Why are you so nervous and excited, Robert, now that you see 
the play is a success beyond any doubt ? 

Robert* 

What [ see and hear to-night — was in my imagination for}-ears. 
The realization makes me nervous. The pleasure to-night re- 
minds me of all the six years of anxiety that I endured — hoping 
against hope — without a word of consolation from anyone. I re- 
member the da3^s of patient waiting — while the very same play 
that you have seen to-night was in the managers' hands — for 
weeks and months — and then returned with the usual " regrets " 
"I am sorry'' &c. And it was so often repeated, that those 
" regrets " are fixed in my ears /(:>/' all time — and I cannot realize 
that what I hear to-night actually is the realization of my hopes. — 
Is it true ? 

Miss Powers* 

Yes, it is true, Robert — as true as my love. 

(Miss Powers puts her anus around Robert's neck and 
overcome by her emotion 7ceeps. He consoles her. 
Applause is heard — tremendous and continued — enthu- 
siastic and prolonged. Actors rush in and out ; they all 
cry to Mr. Fur/fON : "Mr. Fur/roN— //',? ^7 /;z7 — Con- 
gratulations, Mr. Fui/roN. It's a great hit.'") 

Miss Powers* 

Robert — you had better come out from here. Come and sit in 
our box. 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IV\ 89 

Robert. 

You will excuse me, I must go look for my mother. She is 
somewhere in the audience. 

{They exit left door. A voice is heard behind the scenes. ) 

Turn up the lights — no, no, I mean make the house dark. 

Another Voice* 

More light. — What do you sit there for — are you asleep? 

{A feiv actors enter and having bee^i given some para- 
phernalia^ some of them go to the right and some of them 
to left. ) 

( Voices are heard behind the scenes, indicating great excite- 
ment ; gunshots are heard on the stage ; bell rings, and 
the curtain goes dozen amidst great applause. ) 

{Leading man and leading lady eitter at the centre door ; 
manager appears at the right door. ) 

Leading Man and Leading; Lady* 

( Together.) It's a great hit, Mr. Fulton. 

Mr* Fulton. 

I am proud of 3'ou, Miss Strong. It was the best work that I 
have ever seen you do. 

Miss Strongf. 
You must thank the author. It was his line, that gave me 
inspiration. 

Mr* Fulton* 

( To leading man. ) It was very good John. Very well done. 
I am proud of you. 

( Uninterrnpted applanse indicates a call. ) 

Mr« Fulton. 

It's a call. 

{Leading man and l«dy, and one or two others go out. 

Another call. Leading man and lady go ont. A third 

call ; Miss Strong ^^(9^j>^ out alone.) 
{ Another outburst of applause. ) 

Miss Strongf. 

{Running in.) A call for you, Mr. Fulton. 



90 THE PLAYWRUxHT, Ad IV. 

Mn Fulton* 

Where is the author? Where is the author ? 

A Voice, 

I just saw him go out. 

Another Voice. 

He must be among the audience. 

Mr. Fulton. 

( To stage hand. ) Go look for him, Jim. Go and look for him, 
quick. — 

Miss Strong:. 

Come, Mr. Fulton. You go out and show yourself. 

(Mr. Fui^ton resists, trying to luait for Robert, but they 
push him out before them through the centre door. 
Applause subsides, and cries are heard from the house of 

Voices. 

" Author^ — Author — Speech— Speech— Author — 
( They re-enter centre door.) 

Mr. Fulton. 

Is the author here ? 

A Voice. 

I can't find him He is in the audience. 

Another Voice. 

He is coming. He is coming, 

Mr. Fulton. 

Where has he been ? 

Jim. 
I found him in the street; walking without a hat. 

A Voice. 

The author is here. 

(Robert ^wzf^r.? ; they seize him and in spite of his resist- 
ance they push him out. Tremendous applause is heard, 
with cries of '"Speech! Speech f' He re-enters with 
fiozuers, and is decollated liy the manager luith a lureath 
of laurel. The 7vhole stage is crowded icith members of 



THE PLAYWRIGHT, Act IV. 91 

the company and musicians. The musicians zuith in- 
struments under their arms offer their congrattUations. 
The voice of Mrs. Mockart is heard outside). 

Mrs. Mockart* 

(^At left door. ) Let me in ! Let me in ! He is my boy — my 
boy ! He is my son — 

Robert. 
Let her in. It is my mother. Let her in, I say ! She is my 
mother — my mother — 

(Mrs. Mockart enters left, and rustling to Robert falls 
weeping into his arms. Mr. M0E1.NER and Jiis daugh- 
ters stand at tJie left of Robert. The Professor and 
his wife and Emiey stand at rigJit. Mrs. Mockart 
taties Bmiey by t/ie hand ; bikings tier over to Robert. 
TJiey embrace as the curtain goes down. ) 



the end. 



PART II 

HIS PARTNER'S WIFE 



HIS PARTNERS WIFE 



A PLAY 



In Three Acts 



6C82'4 ,/ '; 

By LEONARD LAN DBS 



CfuDitbcrs Fihif., Publishers and Pii)iteys. 



Library of Con^jress 

Two Copies Received 
jUt5L|i900 



No 



Zd 



COPY. 



2nd Copy Delivered to 

ORDER DIVISION 

JUL 23 19 00 



CHARACTERS. 

Mr. John Burnett {a retired New York merchant; age ss)- 
Mr. George Burnett [his son, senior partner of the fiivi of 

Burnett & Lederman ; age 31). 
Mr. Emii. Lederman (J2inior partner of Btirnett & Lederman ; 

Dr. Morton {a Xezu York physician ; age 35). 

Mr. Russeli. (<^ uian of the world ; age 40). 

Mr. John Ai.eEn \a banker ; age 30). 

Mr. a. Thompson [a Xew York banker ; age 60). 

Mr. H. BeIvI^Ew (rt representative of the National Bank; age 48). 

Mr. F. Keen {representative of a luholesale Dry Goods firm ; 

age 30). 
Mr. Ferguson {manager firm Burnett & Lederman ; age 38). 
Servant {Jlale). 

Mrs. Louise Burnett [^wife of George Burnett ; age 2g). 
Mrs. ARI.INGTON {a friend of the Burnetts ; age 4g). 
Miss Jui.ia Ari^ington {her daug/Iter ; age ig). 
Mrs. Ci,ark {a widoiu ; age 34). 

EVEI.YN Burnett ia daughter of fohn Burnett ; age 24). 
Place : New York. 
Time : During the winter of 188—. 
Action of the play occurs during the space of a few weeks. 



FIRST ACT. 

House; of Mr. Gno Burnett, Jr., West 72D St. Drawing 

Room. December. 

SECOND ACT. 

Reception Room. Mr. Geo. Burnett, Jr.'s house. Two 

weeks eater. 

THIRD ACT. 
Library. Mr. Geo. Burnett, Jr.'s house. One week eater. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad I. 



ACT FIRST. 

Drawing 7^00111 ofM.'RS. Burnktt, Jr's hoitse. Luxuriously 
furnished and brilliantly lighted. At rise of curtain, 
music is heard. Guests are seen to move to and fro in 
the rear. Mrs. Burnett, a woman of twenty-nine 
years — rather tall, brunette, refined, handsome, of stately 
commanding presence, enters quickly C. left followed by 
Mr. RusseIvI., C. right. 

Mfs» Burnett 

{Indignant.) Why will you persist in following me, Mr. Rus- 
sell? (Mr. RussEi<T^z/^?^zf.) Everyone is noticing it. {Pause.) 

Mr* Russell 

Don't you care to dance, Mrs. Burnett? 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Pleasantly. ) No.— 

Mr. Russell 

The music is so inviting. — 

Mrs. Burnett 

I don't care, to dance — thank 3-ou. 

Mr. Russell 

But you would care to dance if Mr. Lederman asked you. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Mr. Ivcderman is my husband's partner— and, besides, I am at 
liberty to dance with whom I please, Mr. Russell. 

Mr. Russell 

Certainly — but you will not dance with me? 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Emphatically.) No — ! 

Mr. Russell 

{With force.) Then I will follow you. 



2 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act L 

Mrs* Burnett 

{Astonished.) Really — you are making yourself very obnoxious. 

Mr. Russell 

Indeed — but, if you will remember, there was a time when you 
considered your entertainments incomplete without my presence — 
have you forgotten that time ? 

Mrs* Burnett 

Ah ! — that was a long time ago. 

Mr* Russell 

It was only last winter. 

Mrs. Burnett 

[Enipliaticalty — sha/zing hei^ head.) I do not remember. 

Mr. Russell 

Do you remember the summer we first met — when we used to 
sit in a secluded corner of the piazza admiring the mountains — 
counting the stars until after midnight — and if I failed to call on 
you one single evening, the next day I was overwhelmed with 
messages — telegrams— and — 

Mrs. Burnett 

Why refer to that foolishness now ? 

Mr. Russell 

Because you used the word obnoxious. 

Mrs. Burnett 

{In a qidet tone — after slight panse.) I admit we were friends 
once — but you cannot force me to continue our friendship — Time 
passes— things change. 

Mr. Russell 

Of course they have changed — especially since Mr. Lederman 
became your idol. 

Mr. Burnett 

{Indignant.) How dare you say that ! (Mr. RusSKi^iy /a?^^7z^ 
and walJis around the room.) Mr. Russell, you had the imperti- 
nence to come here this evening without being invited. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, ^r/ /. 3 

Mr* Russell 

{Insolently.) Yes! — I was not invited — that is just the reason 
Tf^ I came. 

Mrs* Burnett 

Now I ask you to leave at once or I will tell Mr, Burnett — and 
you know well he is not a man to be played with. 

Mu Russell 

{With gesture of scorn.) Go and tell him if you please — and 
5'our party will then end in a scandal. 

Mrs. Burnett 

You can't frighten me. 

Mr. Russell 

I don't want to frighten you — but you know well I can— with a 
few words open the eyes of the world. 

Mrs. Burnett 

And with a few words I can bring to a close your impertinence — 
besides — who would believe your unsupported statement? 

Mr. Russell 

I have something that will corroborate my words, 

Mrs. Burnett 

You would not dare. 

Mr. Russell 

Ah, my dear, you do not know what a man will do when he is 
cast aside for no cause whatever. 

Mrs. Burnett 

There is no cause, and that's all there is about it, and if you 
think you can force me to continue our friendship you will be 
greatly mistaken. {Leaves the room zvith defiant air; as she is 
about to exit at the center right, Mrs. Ci.ark and Mrs. Ari^ing- 
TON enter C. left. When Mrs. Burnktt sees them she re-enters 
and advances tozuards Mrs. Ari^ington, ) Mrs. Arlington, you 
are interested in the children's hospital, I believe? 

Mrs. Arlingfton 

Yes — verv much. 



4 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 

Mrs* Burnett 

I have just told Mr. Russell that I propose to send the flowers 
with which I decorated my house to the hospital to-morrow. 

Mrs, Arlington* 

That's very kind of you. 

Mrs* Burnett 

I shall also send my yearly contribution at the same time. 

Mrs* Arlington 

Thank 3'ou, ever so much. 

(Mrs. Ch^^'K. perceives Mr, RussEr.!. and goes tozaards him.) 

Mrs* Ciark* 
Ah ! Mr. Russell, so late. 

Mr* Russell 
It is better late than never, Mrs. Clark. 

Mrs* Clark 

Bill we missed an after-dinnertalk— which is always so amusing. 

Mr* Russell 

Wa'^ ; ^caerman not there ? 

Mrs* Clark 

Yes — and he appeared to be Mrs. Burnett's most favored guest. 
(Mrs. ARi.[NGTON/),?;r^/z'^5 Mr. Russe:i.i.. ) 

Mrs* Arlington 

Ah, Mr. Russell — where have 3'ou been ? We missed 3^our in- 
teresting stories this evening. 

Mrs* Clark 

Really, your absence was felt. 

Mr* Russell 

Oh — my absence was compensated for by Mr. Lederman's pre- 
sence. {Tuiniiiig fozuai'dyi'RS. Burnett.) Is not that so, Mrs. 
Burnett? 

Mrs, Burnett 

{Speaking sharply.) I don't understand you, Mr. Russell. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 5 

Mr, Russell 

{Staniniei'iJig.) I mean to sa}- — I am very sorry I was so late, 
for I had a new story to tell which I think would have interested 
you all. 

Mrs, Clark 

You may yet have an opportunity^ to tell it this evening. 

Mr« Russell 

I will not {Laughi?igiy). 

Mrs. Clark 

Why not, Mr. Russell ? 

Mr. Russell 

The story is too allegoric — I fear no one would understand me. 
{Laughter. Mrs. Burnett laughs in artificial and forced 
tone.- Mesdames Clark and Arlington seat them- 
selves upon sofa. Mrs. Burnett goes up to Mr. Rus- 
sell -/zV/r/zifi- his arm spitefully — takes his arm and 
exits C. L.) 

Mrs. ^lark 
( Gazi)ig after Mrs. Burnett.) Is she not beautiful ? 

Mrs* Arlington 

Yes, she is a beautiful woman. 

Mrs. Clark 

There's no doubt she's a very clever woman. 

Mrs. Arlington 

And a very charitable one — and so refined. 

Mrf» Clark 

And yet they say her mother was onh' a music-hall dancer. 

Mrs. Arlington 

[Astonished.) But, Mrs. Burnett was no dancer. She had the 
best education that wealth could provide, and her father was of an 
excellent familv. 

Mrs. Clark 

That is true — but her father made a mistake in his life for which 
his family suffers and may suffer for generations yet to come. 



6 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad I. 

Mrs* Aflingfton 

And what was that unpardonable mistake ? 

Mrs. Clark 

The story goes that when he was quite young he visited Paris ; 
there he met and became infatuated with a French danseuse and 
returned to America with her as his wife. His family made the 
best of the matter and received her cordially, but she disgraced 
them — squandered his wealth— drove him to an early grave, and, 
finally, her mother ended her days in an asylum. 

( While Mrs. CIvArk is speaking Mrs. ArIvTNGTOn makes 
gestures of protest.) 
{Sarcastically.) Mrs. Burnett is a daughter of this dancer. 

Mrs* Arlington 

It is very sad but Mrs. Burnett cannot be blamed. She was 
not consulted, nor could she choose who her father and mother 
should be. 

Mrs, Clark 
No, of course not — but she resembles her mother in appearance 
and manners. 

Mrs* Arlington 
Well, what of that? 

Mrs* Clark 
Oh, nothing ! nothing ! {In a different tone. ) Mr. Russell has 
some new stories to tell and there are queer rumors afloat. (Mrs. 
ARI.INGTON looks at Mrs. C1.ARK scomfully. ) But what of that. 
Mr. Burnett is as much in love with her as if they had been mar- 
ried five weeks instead of five years, and, after all, it is nobody's 
business but their own. 

Mrs* Arlington 
It is peculiar, Mrs. Clark, that you seem to know everything. 

Mrs* Clark 

Yes, I take a slight interest in everything. 

Mrs* Arlington 

At the present day it is a waste of time to take an interest in 
anything. {Rises. ) 

(Mr. IvKderman and Miss Juwa Ari^ington enter from 
C. left.) 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad I. 7 

Mrs- Clark 

{Rising from sofa.) Mr. Lederman, will j-ou escort me to Mrs. 
Burnett ? 

Mr. Lederman. 
Certainl3^ (Mrs. Ci.ark takes Mr. Lederman's arm and they 
exit C. L.) 

Mrs* Arlm§:ton 
Julia, has Dr. Morton improved in dancing ? 

Julia 

Yes, Mamma. 

Mrs* Arlington 

And how many times did he dance with 3- ou ? 

Julia 

Not even once. 

Mrs. Arlingfton 

{Surprised. ) Not even once ? 

Julia 

( With a sigh. ) No — he speaks to me — but dances with others. 

Mrs* Arlington 

You were quarreling ? 

Julia 
No — yes — no— that is, he wrote me a letter the other da}- which 
I did not like, and, therefore, I have not answered it — 

Mrs. Arlington 

I thought so. You are like your friend Evel}^ ; the moment a 
young man shows you any attention that's the end of it. (Earn- 
estly.) Julia, such men as Dr. Morton are not to be found every 
day. 

Julia 
Sh ! Mamma ! Mr. Burnett and Evelyn are coming. 

(Mr. Burnett, Sr., ajid Evelyx enter from R. D.) 

Mrs* Arlington 

Just the person I want to see. Evelyn, why are ^'ou always 
around your father? 

Evelyn 
I suppose it's because I have only one father. 



8 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 

Mrs. Arlington 

But, in an affair of this kind, you owe a certain duty to the 
young man, 

Evelyn 

[Laughingly. ) I believe you envy me my father's society. 

Mrs. Arlington 

You misjudge me ; but it vexes me to see you tantalize such a 
noble fellow as Mr. Lederman 

Evelyn 

I don't think that I tantalize him. 

Mrs* Arlington 

After dinner you deserted the poor fellow, and — 

Evelyn 

Mrs. Arlington, please, I don't care to — 

{lB,Yn~i.Yi^ crosses over to Jui.ia. Mr. Burnett approaches 

Mrs. ARI.INGTON ) 

Mr, Burnett 

It is not her fault. My George is the cause of it all. For some 
unknown reasons he dislikes Mr. Lederman and endeavors to 
prejudice her against him. She heeds him rather than me. 

Mrs. Arlington 

That's too bad. {Calling, sharply. ) Evelyn ! 
( EvEivYN approaches. ) 

Mrs. Arlington 

I have known Robert Lederman for years. He is a remarkable 
man in every respect. Listen to your father and to me. 

Evelyn 

I am in no haste. I have time to wait. 

Mrs, Arling;ton 

My dear, if you wait too long you may fall asleep. 

Evelyn 

[Laughingly. ) I will take care that shall not be the case with 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act /. 9 

Mrs. Aflingfton 

Be careful, as I have known many people to fall asleep while 
they thought they were wide awake. 

Evelyn 

Have you not a personal motive in giving me this advice ? 

Mfs» Arlington 

None that will harm you. 

(Mrs. Burnett and Mrs. Arlington exit C. rig /it.) 

Julia 

Take my mother's advice — everybody knows your brother 
George has a grudge against Lederman — and for that matter 
against anybody who has more brains than he. 

Evelyn 

You are not certain that my brother is totally wrong, and your 
mother is right. 

Julia 

No. {Long pause.) I have a letter from Dr. Morton which I 
w^ould like you to read. He mentions your name several times, 
and as I cannot understand what he means, will you please read 
it for me. 

Evelyn 

Why, certainly. {]vi.iA hands 1^\%-l,y-^ the letter. Evelyn is 
in deep thought and suddenly asks .■) With whom has Mr. Leder- 
man danced ? 

Julia 

Once with me— but Mrs. Clark has just secured him for a 
partner. 

Evelyn 

Mrs. Clark ? What is Mrs. Clark ? 

Julia 

A widow with a quarter of a million. 

Evelyn 

Umph ! Let's read the letter. 

( They seat themselves upon the sofa. EvEiyVN reads.) 



lo HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act 1. 

Evelyn 

[Reading. ) My dear Miss Arlington — [drops hand holding let- 
ter to her side. ) Has Mr. L^ederman danced with Mrs. Burnett ? 

Julia 

No. 

Evelyn 

Have you noticed if he was anxious to dance with her ? 

Julia 

I have noticed that he is avoiding her. 

Evelyn 

Avoids her ? Just have an eye on him and see if you are right ? 

Julia 

Evelyn, you do him a great injustice. 

(IvKDERMAN enters quickly C. L.; Evklyn, as soon as she 
sees him, throws letter bacfi of sofa — Jui^ia rises and goes 
to the right ; Evei.yn sits on center of sofa — then looks 
towards Mr. LEderman and moves towards the left. 
He takes the hint and goes and sits near her. ) 
[]vij.A goes slowly and noiselessly and gets letter from back 
of the sofa.) 

Evelyn 

Mr. Lederman, I am a new woman. 

Lcderman 

[Smiling.) Yes. [Looks cautiously around room.) It does not 
matter. To me all women are perfect. Especially she whom I 
love. 

Evelyn 

How nice. [Rises from sofa. Jui.ia shows tier the letter — they 
laugh and leave the room C. L. Lederman looks after them -with 
puzzled air. Mrs. Burnett enter C. R. — Lederman sighing 
deeply.) 

Mrs* Burnett 

You sigh as though 5'ou were in love. 

Lederman 

So I am, but, unfortunately, my love is not returned. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. ii 

Mrs* Burnett 

{Laughs.) I don't know about that. Why have you returned 
all my letters ? 

Lederman 

{Emphatically. ) Your letters I will certainly return — always. 
Mrs. Burnett. 

Mrs, Burnett 

( With downcast eyes. ) Why are you frightened at a letter from 
a woman ? 

Lederman 
Oh, no, no ! but 3'ou are the wife of my partner and friend. 

{He starts to leave the room. ) 

Mrs* Burnett 

{Calling after him.) Mr. Lederman, did you receive a letter 
from me to-day ? 

Lederman 
Yes, but I haven't opened it. 

Mrs* Burnett 

It's only an invitation for an afternoon tea. (LEDERMAN is silent. 
— Mrs. Burnett loo/iS beseecliingly into his eyes. ) Mr. Lederman, 
surely you will come ? 

Lederman 

I am sorry, but I have a business engagement. 

Mrs* Burnett 

Then come later — but only come. (LEDerman silent. ) Say that 
you will come and I will turn the very air of my house into 
perfume. 

Lederman 

No, I will not come. Pardon me — {He again starts to leave 
Mrs. Burnett — she detains him by grasping his arm. ) 

Mrs* Burnett 

Really, you are a mysterious man. 

Lederman 

And vou a mysterious woman. 



12 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad I. 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Changing the subject.) Have you enjoyed yourself this 
evening ? 

Lederman 
Yes, very much. 

Mrs, Burnett 

(Laughing. ) Mr. lyederman, will you dance with me? 
(Mr. George Burnett enters C. R. E.) 

Lederman 

Perhaps Mr. Burnett has come to ask you for a dance. 

George 

( To IvEDERMAN. ) I prefer that she should not dance. 

Lederman 

( With a boiv. ) Pardon me. — {Exit C. L.) 

George 

You seemed startled when I entered. 

Mrs* Burnett 

{Constr-ainedly.) Oh no, what an idea ! 

George 

(Z.6'6'/^/;/^ «//<?;' IvEDERMAN, C. L.) He is a man who if given 
an inch of encouragement by a woman will take an ell of liberty. 

Mrs* Burnett 

What are you talking about ? 

George 

What did he say to you ? 

Mrs, Burnett 

Mr. Lederman is a gentleman and always speaks as a gentleman 
should. 

George 

IvCt him be careful if he doesn't — [Pause — in different tojie.) 
It surprises me that he is here this evening. 

Mrs. Burnett 

I invited him and shall do so whenever I choose. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 13 

Geofgfe 

I have special reasons wh}- he should not be invited. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Your father insists I should invite him. 

George 

Louisa, my father has nothing to sa}^ here. It is always a good 
policy not to be socially intimate with people with whom one has 
business dealings. 

Mrs, Burnett 
He was always invited since I have known you — why this sud- 
den change? 

Georgfe 
{Sharply.) That's my affair. 

(Burnett, Sr., enters R. D.) 

Mrs, Burnett 

Excuse me, I must see that the punch is served. {Exit R. D.) 

Burnett, Sr, 

I suppose this evening's costly entertainment has for its object 
to surpass all of those of your friends. 

Georgfe 

What of that ? I can afford to do so. 

Burnett, Sr* 

You cannot — and if you continue in this style I predict you will 
soon be a bankrupt. 

George 
Oh, father, please don't meddle with my affairs. 

Burnett, Sr. 

I shouldn't were I convinced you were doing right, but I hear 
you are speculating with the firm's money. (George silent.) 
Ledermau knows it and has hinted to me that he does not like it. 

George 

{Sneeringly .) Such impertinence ! But just what may be ex- 
pected from an errand boy promoted to a junior partnership. 



14 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 

Barnett, St* 

Whatever he was, he has as much interest in the firm to-day as 
you have ; and let me tell you, it's to the work of this errand boy 
that we owe our Western and Southern trade. Had I not taken 
him into the firm he would have started a business of his own and 
taken away all of our trade. 

Geor§:e 

Father, let's drop the matter. This is neither the time nor the 
place for such a talk. 

Burnett, Sr. 

Very well — {Pause.) 

George 

I will show you that in six months from to-day the firm will 
exist without Lederman. 

Burnett, St* 

That will never be as long as I live. {Pause ^ In the start you 
went along together nicely. The trouble lies now in that you 
have a swelled head and you want Lederman to follow your 
tactics ; but he knows more about the business than you will 
know in all your life, and, if you cannot agree with him, I will 
enter the firm again. 

Georgfe 

I know your motive — Evelyn ! — but that will never be. 

Burnett, Sr, 

I don't know about that. 

George 

Father, you don't know this man's private character ; you know 
him only in business ; you will soon see him in his true color. If 
my suspicions should prove correct I will show him no mercy. 
He shall be disgraced before everybody. 

Burnett, St* 

What nonsense are you talking ? 

( Two male servants enter D. R. They wear black plush 

knee breeches, black silk stockings, gilt garters, bring in 

punch bowl, etc., to serve p^mch.) 
{Music ceases — laughter and voices are heard and guests e^iter 

through R. C. and L C. doors; Dr. Morton, Juwa and 



HIvS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 15 

BVEI.YN, and Mr. RusseIvI<, Mrs Ari^ington and 
Mrs. Z'hKBJ^folloiving. — Punch is served.) 

Mrs- Clark 

Come, Mr. Russell, tell us something. 

Mr. Russell 

I told you all the stories I knew. 

Mrs. Aflingfton 

Mr. Russell, tell us a story — a true story. 

Everybody 

A story, Mr. Russell, a story 

A Gentleman 

We must appoint Mr. Russell our official story-teller. 

Mr* Russell 

{In the center of room holding glass of punch in hand — address- 
ing himself to everybody — loudly.) When I was in South Africa, 
I heard of a liquid the Zulus have — {looking at his punch.) It 
looks just like this punch and has the virtue of discovering a 
criminal. 

Lederman 

That's interesting, if true. 

Burnett, Sr* 

It would save us much trouble and expense if we had such a 
liquid. 

Mr. Russell 

When any one is suspected of a crime, and there is no proof of 
his guilt, — let us say, for example, a wife is accused of faithless- 
ness, — this punch is given her to drink. If she is innocent, the 
liquid is harmless ; if she be guilty, it causes her great agony and 
puts her to torture. At the least sign of pain or suffering, the 
public assembled cry out that she is guilty, and the woman is 
condemned to death. 

Mrs, Burnett 

How cowardly ! 

Mr. Russell 

No — it's a very good idea. 



i6 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 

Burnett, St* 

A very good idea indeed — but so barbarous. 

{Laughter. ) 
Df* Morton 
Suppose, Mr. Russell, this Zulu punch, if I may so call it, is 
given to a person who is not accused of a crime at all, and it 
causes him torture. 

Mr* Russell 

But it doesn't. Dr. Morton ; it's strange, but it's a fact. 

Dr» Morton 

But suppose it does — 

Mr* Russell 

Then the person is guilty of a crime and is so condemned by 
the public. 

Burnett, Sr* 
How many fools constitute a public in Zululand ? 

Mr* Russell 

I don't know — you must ask the English that question. 

Mrs* Burnett 

I would like to know if Mr. Russell drank any of this magic 
fluid himself. 

Mr* Russell 

No— I only heard of it. 

Mrs* Burnett 

\Sneeringly. ) What a pity ! ( General laugliter. ) 

Dr* Morton 

My opinion of this punch-colored mixture is that it is harmless, 
but in case they desire to condemn a man, poison is put into it — 
some poison which causes intense pain. If it is their desire to 
proclaim him innocent, they do not drug the mixture, just as in 
our country, when certain unscrupulous men wish to condemn 
others, they invent a mixture of lies — but a mixture of lies is 
harmless. 

Mr* Russell 

I am going to tell you something more interesting and which I 
saw with my own eyes. When I was in India, in the city of 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 17 

Calcutta, I with two friends — one a German and the other an 
English merchant. At a fair we met an Indian magician. Our 
English friend begged him to show us an example of his won- 
derous power. The magician asked him what he most desired to 
see. He answered a glimpse of his home. The magician, after 
pondering a while, asked for some small sticks and colored hand- 
kerchiefs. These being given him, he beckoned to us to follow 
him to a distant field. There he drove the sticks into the ground 
— placed a handkerchief upon them, and in a moment, in some 
mysterious way, there arose a large tree upon the spot. My 
English friend turned pale, began to tremble and cried out : 
"Don't you see! Don't you see! "' We replied that we saw a 
tree but he became more violent, crying: "Can't you see that 
coward? Don't you see anj-thing but the tree ? " We answered 
we could see nothing but the tree. Then he began to laugh in an 
hysterical manner. " Look — look — can't you see a woman sitting 
near the tree ? That is m}^ wife. And j^ou see a man by her 
side holding her hand ? That is the man whom I made what he 
is The coward wants to destroy my home. Open the windows ! 
Open the doors I " he cried, "let in some fresh air. Don't you 
smell the poisonous gas that surrounds them," and with these 
words he fell into a faint from which he did not recover for three 
hours. 

(An impressive silence follon'S.) 

George 

Father, what does he mean ? 

Burnett, St* 

He means nothing. Don't you see he's less then a fool. 

Mr. Russell 

Another remarkable thing about this tree was that its leaves 
were so large that a carriage and a pair of horses could go under 
each, 

Burnett, Sr* 

[Sarcastically. 1 And how high was the tree, Mr. Russell? 

Mr* Russell 

{Confused and stammering . ) — t-w^-o — two feet. 

Everybody 

( With incredulous surprise.) Two feet? 



i8 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad I. 

Mr* Russell 

{More confused. ) No — no — twelve feet. 

Everybody 

{Same action and langhing.) Twelve feet? 

Mr* Russell 

{In desperation.) No — no — two thousand feet. 

{Prolonged laughter and jeers from everybody.') 
(Mrs. Ci.A.^is. pnlls Mr. 'Rjjssi^^.Vs sleeve and he drops the 
glass of punch to the floor. ^ 

Burnett, Sr* 

{Laughingly.) Friends, you know our tongues are situated in 
a moist place, and, therefore, likely to slip, so we must forgive 
Mr. Russell for his slippery tongue. {Laughter.) 

[Guests leave the room to the R. and L. — Mr. Russei.1/ 
remains standing upon the spot zvhere he dropped the 
glass. ) 

Georgfe 
Mr. Russell, you must go around the world again and see if you 
can't find something that will make a wise man out of a fool. 

Mr* Russell 
We sometimes play the fool to make another man wise, — 
{Quickly. ) I would advise you to go around the world and see if 
you can find something that will make a blind man see, 
{Exit George. ) 

(Mr. RusseIvIv approaches the punch boiul and helps himself 
to glass after glass of ptuich — drinks quickly, one glass 
after another, sighs deeply.— M.VL.S. Burnett re-enters 
the room. 

Mrs* Burnett 
You have succeeded admirably in making yourself the laughing 
stock of all my guests. 

Mr* Russell 

I'm not so sure of that. 

Mrs* Burnett 

Why everyone laughed at you. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act L 19 

Mr* Russell 

Onl}^ apparently. They understood what I meant. 

Mrs* Burnett 

They clearly understood that you were either a fool or a knave. 

Mr* Russell 

Perhaps they did — but they will change their minds when I have 
an opportunity to give the sequel of my story. 

Mrs. Burnett 

That you will never have. I opened everybody's door for you. 
I shall now see that they are closed — and very tightly too. 

(Mr. RuSvSELi, laughs — ivalks about the room. — Pause.) 

Mr. Russell 

Be careful that the doors are not closed to you as well. 

(Mrs Burnktt i-emains stauding in deep thought. A 
Se;rvant enters to remove the tray, etc.) 

Mrs. Burnett 

John ! 

Servant 

Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Mr. Russell's hat and coat. 

Servant 

Yes, madam, [Exits.) 

(Mr. Russet. I. and Mrs. Burnett looJz at each other in 
silence. Servant reappears ivith Mr. Russei^l'S hat 
and coat. RussEivL boivs courteously to Mrs. Burnett 
and exits R. C. Mrs. Burnett exits R. D Room 
remains empty for a minute — music is again heard. 
Mr. Lederman and EveIvYN enter C. L.) 

Lederman 

Will you have some punch, Miss Burnett ? 

Evelyn 

Yes. (EvEivYN seats Jierself on sofa and Mr. Lederman hands 
her a glass ofptinch. SJie drintzs it. ) Was not Mr. Russell's story 
this evening rather queer? 



20 HrS PARTNER'vS WIFE, Act I. 

Lederman 

It is the greatest inventive lie I have ever heard, and if a lie has 
any weight he could kill all India with it. {Both laugh. ) 

Evelyn 

But there was such a depth of sincerity in his narration . 

Lederman 

Yes, that's just the point. He reminds me of the hero of your 
story, the Captain Knight, whom you describe as having such 
blood-curdling adventures in South America, and who, as it was 
afterwards proved, had never been more than a hundred miles 
from his native town. {Both lau^h.) If I had any ability to 
write, I would take Mr. Russell with his lie story and make an- 
other lie story out of it. ( Bvki^yn laughs heartily. ) 

Evelyn 

That's a good suggestion ; there is enough material. I am 
surprised that you remember the hero of my story. 

Lfderman 

{Sentimentally.) Would you not have been more surprised 
could I have forgotten it ? 

Evelyn 
Oh, I— 

Lederman 

I know it almost by heart and I bought a copy of every new 
edition. 

Evelyn 

{Laughingly.) Then you are well supplied with waste paper. 
(Jur^iA ArIvINGTOn enters from C. R. E. , but upon discover- 
ing EVEI.YN and Mr. LiiDKRMAN she retreats.) 
{Anticipating Julia's intention to withdraiv.) What is it, Julia? 
Come in. 

Julia 

Your brother George wants to see you. 

Evelyn 

Very well. 

(Julia exits L. C. Evelyn remains a feiv moments in 
deep thought ; rises. ) 
Pardon me, Mr. Lederman — 

{As she reaches the door she notes Lederman's air of dejec- 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad I. 21 

iioji. and taking from her bouquet at her belt arose, 
returns and offers it to him. Lederman ^rt^-*?^ at her 
luith rapture. ) 

Le derma n 

I know exaclly what your brother wishes to say to you. 

Evelyn 

{Laughin;rly. \ Reall}-, I did not know that you were a mind- 
reader. 

Lederman 
However. — I will bid you good night. 

Evelyn 

Lederman 

Do you want me to stay ? 

[^She looks at him. After a long pause she takes the whole 
bouquet of roses from her belt, thrusts it into his hands 
a?id leaves the room R. C Lederman sighs deeply, 
and helps himself to more punch. Mrs. Burnett 
enters from_ the right ; sees LEderman ; she gives a 
start of pleasure. After looking cautiously around, to 
see if they are entirely alone, she appi^oaches Lederman, 
who has his back towards her, and slips one of her 
hands into one of his. Takes quickly a glass of punch.) 

Mrs* Burnett 

( Triumphantly. ) To the health of Mr. Robert Lederman. 

[Lederman looks at her zuith mingled astonishment and dis- 
gust and starts to leave. She holds him back. ) 

Mrs. Burnett 

You must drink a glass to my health. 

(EvEEYN enters the room, and when she sees INIrs. Burnett 
a?id Lederman, 5/?i? retreats. Lederman drinks punch 
to satisfy Mrs. Burnett a7id then starts to go again. As 
he is about to go she makes motion as if to embrace him. 
He seizes her by both arms and violently throws her 
from him upon the sofa.) 



•22 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad I. 

Lederman 

Madam you are drunk with passion. 

{Exits quickly R . C. When he throiusM.^'$>. Burnett /;'6>w 
him, one of his cuffs is lost and falls under the sofa. 
BvELYN enters and remains standing like a statue and 
looks at Mrs. Burnett in silence. George enters and 
seeing his luife upon the sofa runs to her.) 

George 

What has happened to you, my dear ? 

(Mrs. Burnett is silent — seeing his sister.) 

George 

What has happened here, Evelyn ? {She trembles, hut gives no 
reply. George rushes to C. door. Calling, C.) Dr. Morton I 
Dr. Morton ! 

(Dr. Morton enters hurriedly, followed by a few guests . 
Dr. Morton goes toward Mrs. Burnett. ) 

Dr. Morton. 

Some water — some water. There is no danger ; it's nothing. 

George 

( To KVEI.YN. ) What has happened here .-* Who was here ? 
{Harshly. ) Why don't you speak ? {He glances keenly about the 
7'007n and as he is about to go to Mrs Burnett he discovei's the 
cuff. Picks it up and examifies it — looks towards the sofa and an 
expression of comprehension lights up his face. IvEDERMan enters 
R. C Addressing IvEDERMan — in low tone. ) Is this your cuff, 
Mr. Lederman? 

{l^is.T)'B,^'WLKN is astonished, looks at both of his hands and 
finds one cuff gone. ) 

Lederman 

Yes — {attempts to take the ciff from George, ivho refuses to let 
him have it). 

George 
{In a low tone). Will you tell me what happened in this room 
before you left ? 

(Lederman remains silent aud in the same posture. ) 
{Loudly. ) Will you answer my question ? 

( Thei'e is a stir among the guests aud all look around. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act I. 23 

Burnet t, Sr. 

{To George, /;/ a zuhisper. ) Control yourself, George ; control 
yourself —make no scandal. 

George 

{Excitedly.) Will you answer my question? 

Burnett, Sr* 

( To George. ) Remember lie is your guest ; society will never 
forgive you for this. 

(George laughs hysterically — then, turning to the gnests 
holds out the cuff. ) 
{In a very excited manner.) Here, friends, is the evidence o 
how he has abused my hospitality. All that he possesses he owes 
to my father and this is the reward. But what {with a sneer) can 
you expect of a man who was brought up on Avenue A. Such a 
creature should be kicked out from decent society. ( Throws cuff, 
zuith force at IvEDERMAN'sy??cr. ) 

( While George speaks Mrs. Burnett ci-ies out several 

times "George ! George ! ") 
{Cujiain falls as guests are seen running out in different 
directions. ) 



END OF FIRST ACT. 



24 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad II. 



ACT SECOND. 

{Reception room <?/ Mr. Burnett, Jr. 's house— handsomely fur- 
nished ; doors C L. and R. Piano on corner of right. At 
rise, George is discovered zualking up a?id down the room 
nervously. Servant enters L.) 

Servant 

Mr. Burnett, Mr. Ferguson would like to see you. 

( Telephone heard ringing. ) 

Geofgfe 

John, answer the telephone. (Servant ^c^^ to telephone.) 

George 

Who is it ? 

Servant 
From the office. 

George 

Wait before you answer. Tell me all about it. 

Servant 

They inquire if you are at home. 

George 

{Excitedly. ^ vSay — no — say — no — What do they want? 

Servant 

They want to know if Mr. Ferguson called to-day to see you, 

George 

Sa}^ no. 

Servant 

{Earnestly. ) Mr. Burnett, Mr. Ferguson called five times when 
you were out. 

George 

Do as I tell you, you fool. 

Servant 

You are wanted at the office on important business. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act 11. 25 

George 

Yes — yes — I know. (Servant re-enters 7'ooin.) 

Send Mr. Ferguson up. {Exit Servant L. ) 

( Mr . Ferguson en ters L . ) 
Geofgfe 

[Anxiously.^ Anything serious, Mr. Ferguson? 

Fergfuson 

Serious enough — Mr. Lederman sent away the man you em- 
ployed to examine the books — he has examined them personally. 

George 

Did you protest against it? 

Ferguson 

No — because he should not suspect anything. Something must 
be done at once, or everything will be known in a short time. 

George 

{In a liarsli tone.) Did you have an interview with him this 
morning as I told you to ? 

Ferguson 

Yes, but it is of no use. He is determined to go out of the firm 
— {quietly) or you must go out. 

George 

What's to be done ! 

Ferguson 
Beg your father to interfere. 

George 

Yes — 3'ou are right — my father, certainly. I will see if he is 
home. (George goes to telepJione — speatiing wtiile at 'p/ione.) 
Yes, — yes, — is that you, Evelyn — yes — is father home — do you 
know where he is — at the office with Lederman, 3'Ou say — yes. — 

Ferguson 

( From tlie room — eagerly. ) What does she say ? 

George 

[Still at the telephone.) Yes — my wife will leave the city to- 
morrow — you will come to tea this afternoon— yes do — good-bye. 

{Re-enters the room. ) 



26 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad II. 

Ferguson 

What did she say ? 

George 

' Lederman sent for my father to come to the office. [Quietly.) 
On business of great importance, 

Ferguson 

Everything is lost. {Sinks into chair. ) 

(GkorgK walks np and down the room nervously, then he 
suddenly stops as if an idea had come to him. ) 

George 

There's one thing you can do — that will be the best way for us 
both. 

Ferguson 

Well— what? 

George 

{Quickly) I have |5,ooo in the house — leave the city until I 
can arrange the matter. 

Ferguson 

Oh, no; I'm not made of such material. I was a fool in ad- 
vancing you the firm's money, but I have done it with good 
intentions. I have done nothing to cause me to run away. 

George 

Be quiet — not so loud. 

Ferguson 

The guilty man should go — should run away — that would be 
proper ; that would be right. 

George 
Sh ! Sh ! Some one is coming. Go to my room. I will be up 
in a minute and we will talk the matter over. 

(Ferguson is about to speak zvhen George interrupts him 
and takes him by the arm. ) 

Ferguson 

I have been twenty-five years with the firm ; I have grown-up 
daughters ; a reputation to lose. Please — 

George 

Yes, yes, I know. {Pushes him out of the room. ) 

(Ferguson exits C. D. Mrs. Burnett enters R. D.) 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad IL 27 

George 

Louise, my sister Evelyn will come to tea this afternoon. 

(Mrs. Burnett takes no notice of remark. ) 

Mrs. Burnett 

You did not go to see Mr. Lederman ? 

George 

No — and I'm not going to. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Why? 

George 

Because your explanation is unsatisfactory to me. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Unsatisfactory ? 

George 

Yes — you seem to have a motive in shielding this man. 

Mrs. Burnett 

And you made up your mind to trample him under your feet ; — 
but see how everybody sympathizes with him — and to us nobody 
comes — no one invites us ; in the street no one even cares to 
recognize me. 

George 

This I don't understand myself; but I don't care, and why 
should you care as long as I am standing by you ? 

Mrs. Burnett 

But I do care. A man can't live all by himself. 

George 

Be patient — in time they will all come knocking for an entrance 
at our door. 

Mrs. Burnett 

But, if you would go and apologize, the firm will remain as it is 
and everything will be forgiven and forgotten. 

George 

I'm not going to make a fool of myself. 



28 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad II. 

Mrs, Burnett 

{Emphatically.) George, you have done the man a great in- 
justice. 

G^ofgfe 

I have done him a good service. In the future he will know 
how to behave himself. (Servant enters L. D.) 

Servant 

Mrs. Burnett, Dr. Morton is here. 

Mrs, Burnett 

All right, John. 

George 

( To Mrs. Burnett. ) I am busy upstairs — see that I am not 
disturbed. 

(Servant exits L. D. and George exits C. D. Dr. Mor- 
ton entei's L. ) 

Dr. Morton 

How are you to-day, Mrs. Buinett ? 

Mrs, Burnett 

Much better, Doctor. 

Dr. Morton 

That's good — you look better. 

Mrs, Burnett 

Oh, I'm all right ; only give me something to make me sleep, 
doctor. 

Dr, Morton 

I'll see what I can do. Let me feel your pulse. {Pause.) 
{Feeling her pulse.) That's all right. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Do you think I shall be able to leave to-morrow. {Before he 
has an opportunity to ansiuer. ) Please, doctor, don't say I can't 
go, because I shall go anyway. 

Dr, Morton 

That's all right. You can go but I must warn you of one thing. 
Avoid all excitement and mental occupation for it will be not only 
iniurious but dangerous. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act II. 29 

Mrs* Bttmett 

I will be careful, Doctor 

Df. Morton 

I will see you to-morrcw before you leave. [He is about to teave 
the room. ) 

Mrs* Burnett 

Doctor ! ( The Doctor stops. ) Could you spare a minute. I 
want to speak a few words to 3'ou. 

Dr. Morton 

Yes — certainly. 

Mrs. Burnett 

[Pointing to chair and both tatie seats. ^ Doctor, I know a lady 
(/;/ a different tone — ) one of those, you know, possessed of a very 
susceptible heart, as we %a.y — would you call her a woman with 
a human weakness ? 

Dr. Mojton 

I really don't know what I would call her. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Is it a fact that we all have a weakness in some form or another? 

Dr. Morton 

Yes, to a certain extent — we all have a weakness in some form 
or another. 

Mrs. Burnett 
Now, doctor, is there a remedy by which we can control the 
weak spot that is in us ? 

Dr. Morton 
Yes. 

Mrs. Burnett 

{With delight.) Yes? {Pause.) This lady is a dear friend of 
mine — would you prescribe something for her ? 

Dr. Morton 

There is nothing to prescribe. The remedy is in ourselves and 
ready for use. 

Mrs. Burnett 

[Sill-prised.) In ourselves? 



30 HIS PARTNER'vS WIFE, Act II. 

Dr. Morton 

Yes. It is asserted we have something in ourselves and if we 
try we can control the weakness that is in us. 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Laughingly.) This something must be a very funny thing. 

(Dr. Morton rises.) 
Mrs* Burnett 
( IViih appreciating movement of hand.) No, no, doctor, I did 
not quite understand what you meant, 

Dr* Morton 

[ResHining seat.) This something, as you call it, is our will- 
power, or, as our scientists call it, the double of us, and we can, 
bv an effort, subdue the weakness that is in us. 

Mrs* Burnett 

In other words, you mean by effort we can control the devil that 
is in us ? 

Dr. Morton 

Yes, exactly. 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Softly.) Ah, but, doctor, I have known people who have tried 
time and time again, but have failed. 

Dr. Morton 

It may be they have tried, but at the last moment they shrunk 
from the pain of effort 

Mrs. Burnett 
Then effort is their salvation ? 

Dr. Morton 

{Emphatically) Yes. Effort is their salvation. 

( They both rise as Servant enters L. ) 

Servant 

{Announcing at door) Mrs. Clark and Mr. Russell. 

(Mrs. CI.ARK az/fl' Mr. Russei.!. enter L.) 

Mrs. Burnett 

{S/iarply — to Servant on announcing.) Who told you to show 
them up ? 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, ^r/ //. 31 

Mrs- Clark 

{^Rapidly — not hearing Mrs. Burnett's rebuke to Servant.) 
How do you do, dear. Is it true what I read in the papers that 
3^ou are going to leave us? I was driving through the neighbor- 
hood ; I thought I would come in and see you. 

Mrs, Burnett 

That's very kind of you. 

Mr. Russell 

[To Mrs. Burnett — aside.) How do you do, Mrs. Burnett? 
(Mrs. Burnett remains silent. ) For old friendship's sake I came 
to bid you good-bye. {Holds out hand and Mrs. Burnett walks 
aivay. ) 

Mrs. Clark 

[Seeing Dr. Morton.) Ah, Dr. Morton, permit me to con- 
gratulate you upon 3^our engagement to Miss Arlington. 

Dr. Morton 

Thank you, Mrs. Clark. 

Mrs. Clark 

You are a very fortunate fellow to catch such a bright and 
sweet girl as Miss Arlington. [Crosses to Isl^. RussEEL. Aside 
to Mr. RusseeTv) She's the most stupid and disagreeable person 
I have ever met. 

Mr. Russell 
( To Mrs. Ceark. ) You say Mrs. Burnett is leaving the city — 
where is she going to ? 

Mrs. Clark 

To California. That is the best thing she can do, for no one 
will ever recognize her here. 

Mr. Russell 

What is she going to do there ? 

Mrs. Clark 

Why — she has two sisters in California — one divorced and the 

other separated from her husband -and, besides, her father's 

family resided in San Francisco — some very nice people, you 

know. 

(Mr. Russeee goes towards Dr. Morton. ) 



32 HIS PARTiNFER'S WIFE, Ad II. 

Mn Russell 

Have you seen Mr. lyederman lately ? 

Df» Morton 

Yes, I saw him last night at the club. 

Mr. Russell 

When you see him again, tell him that if he ever wants to make 
love to a woman, he should do it in a dark tunnel about 200 miles 
long. 

Dn Morton 

Um ! ( Crosses over towards Mrs. Burnktt. ) 

(Kv:ei.YN enters L. with a sad expi^ession upon her face. ) 

Mrs. Burnett 

( Going to EvEivYN. ) How do you do ? How do you do, dear — 
why so sad ? 

Evelyn 
Oh, I'm all right. ( To Dr. Morton.) How do you do, Doctor? 

Dr. Morton 
Very well. (GEORGE re-enters room.) I bid you all good 
afternoon . 

Mrs. Burnett 

Oh, Doctor, stay for a cup of tea. 

Dr. Morton 

I really cannot. Miss Arlington is waiting for me in my 
carriage. 

Mrs. Burnett 
Why not ask her up ? 

(Dr. Morton hesitates. ) 
Georgfe 
Yes — ask her to come up. 

Dr. Morton 

Yes— I will . {Exits L. D.) 

George 

( To KvEi^YN, aside.) You said Lederman sent for father? 

Evelyn 
Yes. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act II. 33 

Geoi'§:e 

It's strange that father went. 

Evelyn 
That's all right ; Mr. Ivederman had dinner with us last night. 

George 

{Surprised.) Dinner last night ? 

Evelyn 

Yes, and he came on my invitation. 

Geofg^e 

{Astonished.) At 3'our invitation ? 

(Servant enters ivitli cups, etc., and commences to serve tea.) 

Evelyn 

{Emphatically.) Yes, on my invitation. 

George 

Eveljm, yon are jesting. 

Evelyn 

No. It's real earnest. 

George 
I don't understand it. 

Evelyn 

You will — and very soon. 

Mrs* Burnett 

( To EvEi/YN. ) Evelyn, will you have some tea ? 

Evelyn 

Yes, I will take a cup. 

( Mrs. Burnett hands her a cup. Dr. Morton and Miss 
i\.Ri.iNGTON enter. ) 

Mrs* Clark 

( To Miss Arlington. ) Julia, allow me to congratulate you. 
Dr. Morton will surely some day become the leading physician of 
New^ York. 

Miss Arlington 

{Smiling. ) Thank you. 

(Mrs. CIvARK crosses room towards Mr. Russei.1..) 



34 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act II. 

Mr, Russell 

( To Mrs. Ci^ark — aside. ) You meant it's more likely he will 
be the leading doctor, not of New York, but of Hoboken. 

Mrs, Clark 

Exactly, He's the most typical educated fool that I have ever 
seen. 

[Everybody served with cups of tea.) 

Evelyn 

{Aloud . ) Mr. Russell, you remember the story you told us 
about the Indian magician ? 

Mr, Russell 

Yes. 

Evelyn 

I'm going to take it as the main theme for a novel that I am 
going to write. 

Mr. Russell 

That's quite complimentary. 

Evelyn 

It would help me how to paint the characters if I knew whether 
the picture which the magician showed to the British merchant 
proved to be true. 

Mr, Russell 

Really, I have told you so many stories about India that I am 
afraid Mr. Burnett or {Looking at Mrs. Burnktt) Mrs. Burnett 
might object. 

Mrs. Burnett 

No, Mr. Russell, you know I am interested in the Hindoos. 

George 

Go on, Mr. Russell, go on ; your story interests me. {Pause.) 

Evelyn 

Well, Mr. Russell. 

Mr. Russell 

{Hesitatingly.) The sport proved to be a very serious matter 
for our British friend. After he recovered from the shock he was 
never the same man again. He packed up his things and left for 
home at once. He promised faithfully to write, but he never did. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act II. 35 

Evelyn 

That's too bad. 

Mr* Russell 

I'll tell you another trick the magician has done that you can 
perhaps make use of in ^'our novelette. 

Evelyn 

What is it, Mr. Russell ? 

Mr, Russell 

In the meadow where we were standing a large wagon loaded 
^ith hay passed by, and there was a horse running about in the 
field. The magician caught the horse and, before our eyes, made 
it eat the w^hole wagon of hay. [Laughter.) 

Mrs. Clark 

{ Amazed. ) A horse eat a wagon load of hay ? 

Mr. Russell 

' I have heard of a magician who made a horse eat a ton of coal. 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Sarcastically.) Mr. Russell, did you ever hear of a magician 
who made a horse eat a wagon-load of American peanuts? 

{Laughter.') 
Mr. Russell 
I don't believe they have peanuts in India. {Laughingly.) 
Perhaps chestnuts. [Laughter . ) 

Evelyn 

I don't think I can make use of your hay story, Mr. Russell ; 
but did you ever meet that British merchant after he left you in 
India ? 

Mr. Russell 

Yes, about two 3-ears later I met him in London. 

Evelyn 

And did j^ou ask him about the truth of the magician's revela- 
tioii ? 

Mr. Russell 
I did, but to all my questions he gave me some indirect answers. 

Evelyn 

For example, what did he say? 



36 HIS PARTNER'vS WIFE, Act II . 

Mf. Russell 

I really don't remember. 

Evelyn 
See if you can't remember something ; try and remember some- 
thing ; it will help me a great deal. 

{Everybody is loatching for Mr. Russe:IvI.'S answers eagerly.) 

Mr. Russell 

Before we parted he told me that his home was destroyed. 

Evelyn 

And did he say that his friend was the cause of it ? 

Mn RusselL 

He said something, but really I don't remember. 

Evelyn 

Or did he perhaps say that his own wife was the cause of it ? 

Mn Russell 

Really, I don't remember. {Silence prevails in Ihe room.) 

(Mrs. Burnett sits suddenly on piano stool — striking keys 
with elbow, turns and begins to play an inhannonioics 
tune — Georgk stops her. ) 

Miss Ai'lin§;ton 

( Zb Dr. Morton.) Come, let's go. Why did you bring me 
up here anyway ? 

Dn Morton 

{Aside.) For professional reasons. 

Miss Aflingfton 

{Indignantly.) Some day you will probably want me to drive 
your carriage for professional reasons. ( Goes toivards Evpxyn. ) 
(Mrs. CI.ARK and Mr, Russki.Iv exit L.) 

George 

{To Dr. Morton aside.) Doctor, see that my wife leaves 
to-morrow, will you? 

Dr. Morton 

That's all right. Try and send her with somebody. She looks 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad II. 37 

well, but she's a very sick woman, and if she does not follow the 
advice I gave her, something dangerous may happen. 

Georg^e 

I will see that everything is all right. 

Miss Arlington 

(^ To KvEivYN. ) Evelyn, will 3-ou not take a drive with us in 
the park ? 

Evelyn 

Thank you, I have to remain here for a while. 

Miss Arlington 

Well, good afternoon to all. 

(Dr. Mortox and Miss Ari^ington exit L. ) 

George 

Evelyn, remain here a little while ; I have some business up- 
stairs. ( Exit C. D. A pause. ) 

Evelyn 

Louise, I am going to send to you the manuscript of the novelette 
that I have written based on the theme of Mr. Russell's tale, and I 
want you to read it carefully and then read it to George. 

Mrs. Burnett 

To George? Why to George? You know I'm going away 
to-morrow. 

Evelyn 

Suppose you don't go — \ in earnest) You hear — suppose you 
don't go. 

Mrs. Burnett 

I'm going even if it rains with stones — if I remain here the air 
that surrounds me will suffocate me. 

Evelyn 
Do you mean the air that is polluted with the insult and injustice 
towards Mr, Lederman suffocates 3'ou ? 

(Mrs. BuRNiCTT looks at her in a ratJier astonis/ied manner. ) 

Mrs, Burnett 

I told your brother that he had done a great injustice to Leder- 
man, but what can I do ? He does not believe me. 



38 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad II. 

Evelyn 

Did you tell him the truth — and nothing but the truth ? 

Mrs* Burnett 

Evelyn ! 

Evelyn 
Had you told him the truth ? Tell him the truth and he will 
believe you. 

Mts. Burnett 

What do you mean ? 

Evelyn 

If you will not tell him the truth — I will {emphatically) yovL 
understand — I will. 

Mrs. Burnett 

What do you mean by truth. — What truth ? 

Evelyn 

It will be my duty to purify the air of my brother's home. 

(Mrs. Burnett remains stupefied. S'E^'VA.^'i enters L. and 
goes toward s'M.i^s. Burnett.) 

M*s* Burnett 

Mr. Burnett is in his room. 

Evelyn 

Now, is it clear to you why nobody comes to see you ? And Dr. 
Morton hesitated to bring up Miss Arlington ? Do you imagine 
the world is blind? Sometimes the very stones have eyes and 
ears. You are ambitious and want to be honored and respected 
by your friends and neighbors, but if a man wants to wear a crown 
he must be a king— and if a woman wants to be a queen she must 
be pure. 

(Mrs. Burnett crosses towirds the right and sits on sofa ; 
she looks at Bvei^yn. ) 

Evelyn 

( With e^nphasis.) My brother must know the truth, then he 
can do as he likes — but the truth he must be told. 

( Prolonged pa u se. ) 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act II. 39 

Mfs» Burnett 

Send me your manuscript. I will not leave to-morrow. ( Con- 
fused ) I will stay. I will not go. 

(Burnett, Sr., is heard outside. He, follozved by Mr. 
Lederman, enter quicftly L. E. ) 

Burnett^ Sn 

(^Excited. ) Where is he .'' Where is he ? {Runs about the i^oom. ) 

Evelyn 

What has happened ? 

(Burnett, Sr., zvhen he sees Evelyn quiets down.) 

Burnett, Sr, 

Nothing — nothing — 

(Mr. Burnett, Sr., excitedly runs about tJie room, twitch- 
ing his fingei's nervously. ) 
Where is he? Where is he? {Turning towards Mrs. Bur- 
nett. ) Where is George ? 

(Mrs. Burnett is like in a stupor — looks at him but gives 
him no answer. ) 

Evelyn 

Father, George is upstairs. 

(Mr. Burnett, Sr. is about to run out of the roo^n—^'Ev'EhYN 
catches him by the arm. ) 

Evelyn 

Father, please tell me what has happened. 

Burnett, Sr. 

{A?ig7y.) Go home ! Go home ! Leave us alone. What are 
you doing here anyway ? {Exit C D. ) 

(Mr. IvEderman is about to follow him when Evei^yn 
takes hold of his arm.) 

Evelyn 

What is the matter, Mr. Lederman ? 



Lede 



rman 



Some business trouble. {Exit C. — pause.) 

(Burnett, Sr. is heard outside saying:) 



40 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad 11. 

Burnett, Sr. 

You are a bankrupt and I told you before that you would be 
bankrupt. 

Evelyn 
[Going towards and speaking- to Mrs. Burnett — pointing with 
finger to C. ) You hear that voice ? You hear how horrible it 
sounds. He is financially bankrupt — but you are morally bank- 
rupt. [Exits L.) 
(Mrs. Burnktt remains sitting on sofa as if stupefied — 
looks towards Evki^yn as she goes ont — long silence. ) 

Mrs* Burnett 

What do they want from me? What do they want from me? 
[In a louder voice. ^ Why do they not leave me alone? Has not 
every man a right to live as he pleases ? ) She rises from sofa and 
dishevelling her hair runs about the room as if mad. ) Oh, God ! 
Ohj God ! Why is this world so immovable? W^hy are people so 
unpardonable? Am I as bad as all that? [Runs about the room 
again, fiinging everything down before lier — making a gi-eat 
noise. Gkorge; enters quickly. ) 

George 

My God, Louise, what has happened to you? 

Mrs. Burnett looks at him and composes herself^gives a 
little laugh— then falling on her knees "with her head on 
a chair begins to weep bitterly. ) 

George 

[Going tozuards her.) Louise, you act so strange. What has 
happened to you ? Tell me — don't be afraid. I'll do anything 
you want me to. 

(Mrs. Burnett zuipes azaay tears and rises.) 

Mrs* Burnett 

Let's take a drive in the Park — in spite of everything — [Louder) 
In spite of everything. In spite of everybody. 

George 

In spite of whom ? 

Mrs, Burnett 

Ask no questions. [Takes him by the arm.) Come, let's take 
a drive in the park. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act IL 41 

George 

But you can't j^o that way — you are not dressed. {Going to 

door — calls. ) John — John — go quick for Doctor Morton. 

(Mrs. Burnett /rt//^7;^.) 
Mrs* Burnett 

That's so — that's so — I'm not dressed. Well, I'm gohig to dress. 
{She walks out through the room in a triumphant manner, 
laiLghing. M.'^.V>\-^^^ti follows her. As they go out 
the curtain falls. ) 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



42 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad III. 



ACT THIRD. 

{A Winter'' s evening. The library of Mr. Burnett, Jr.'s Jwuse. 
At the right fire burning in the gi'ate. Large table zuith 
chairs at left. At the rdght a small desk zuith sheets of paper 
scattered over it. Staircase going up to another room. Large 
bookcase at back. At rise the piano is heard playing selections 
from ' ' Orphee. ' ' ) 

(Mrs. Burnett enters f-om the right zuith sad and anxious 
expression. Sits at desk— picks up sheets of paper and 
reads. E teases and adds lines to zvriting. Takes a 
sheet of paper — reads — and zvith an expression of despair 
looks blank. Mr. Ferguson enters from R. and goes 
to Mrs. Burnett.) 

Mf« Ferguson 

Mrs. Burnett ! {Pause.) Mrs. Burnett! 

(Mrs. Burnett looks up to Mr. Ferguson.) 

Mrs. Burnett 

Oh, yes. {Rises^pause.) Did you succeed ? 

Mr* Ferguson 

Partly so. I could not obtain more than sixt}' thousand dollars, 

Mrs* Burnett 

Why — my tiara alone cost thirty-five thousand, and there is my 
brooch — my rings — 

Mr* Ferguson 
There's a difference when you buy and when you accept a loan. 

Mrs* Burnett 

Will that sum cover Mr Burnett's deficiencies? 

Mr* Ferguson 

No ; but that is not the question at present. The firm can pay 
twenty-five cents on the dollar. There's one creditor to be feared 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act HI. 43 

and that is Mr. Allen, You remain during the meeting in the 
next room and watch how things are progressing. If it becomes 
boisterous, and they do not agree, come in and add your money to 
be divided among them. (Mr. Ferguson takes sevei-al packages 
from pocket. ) Here is the money. 

(Mrs. Burnett takes packages and locks them in drawer of 
desk. Speaks in an absent-minded manner at desk.) 

Mrs, Burnett 

Yes — yes — if he would only have pity on me and forgive me ! 

Mr, Ferguson 

What did you say, Mrs. Burnett? 

Mrs* Burnett 

Nothing — nothing — 

(Mrs. Burnett hotds tier hands to her head and appears to 
be suffering. ) 

Mr. Ferg^uson 
Are you not well ? 

Mrs. Burnett 

It's nothing— I have only a dreadful headache. {Pause.) Mr. 
Ferguson, are Mr. Burnett's deficiencies the only cause of the 
firm's impending failure ? 

Mr. Fergfuson 

No, not entirely ; but taken in connection with the hard times 
and the continual differences, and quarrels, which, I may say, 
was Mr. Burnett's fault, it coul(J not be averted. 

Mrs. Burnett 

That's unfortunate. 

Mr. Ferguson 

Has anybody been here ? 

Mrs, Burnett 

Mr Lederman and Mr. Burnett's father, I believe, are here for 
over an hour. 

Mr. Ferguson 
None of the creditors? 

Mrs. Burnett 
No. (Mrs. ^{Jkset^ tiolding hand to her head and appearing 
to suffer.) 



44 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act III. 

Mr* Ferguson 

This meeting means everything to yon, Mrs. Bnrnett, and to the 
firm. I know there will be a great fight — you must try and do the 
best you can. 

Mrs* Burnett 
Mr. Ferguson, we never know the value of the things we pos- 
sess until we are about to lose them. Rest assured I will do all 
that a w^oman can do. 

Mr. Fer§;uson 
{Pleadingly. ) Do the best you can [Exit L. ) 

(Mrs. YiVi^'^nr'i: goes and sits at deslz ; leans liead on liand 
in despairing manner. Gkdrge Burnett descends 
staircase holding papers in his hand. Passes tlirongh 
the room and is about to exit L. Mrs. Burnett i'z]^/? 5 
deeply. Mr. Burnett turns around and goes towards 
Mrs. Burnett. ) 

Geor§:e 
Lionise — [pause) — Louise! What is the matter ? 

(Mrs. Burnett looks up— she appears to have been weep- 
ing. She rises. 
What is it? 

(Mrs. Burnett falls into his arms and sobs hysterically ) 
Patting her on the shoulder. ) That's all right. Everything 
will be all right. 

Mrs. Burnett 
When I look back into the years we have been married. I now 
see how good and kind you have been to me — but I fear I will 
never be able to repay you for your kindness. 

( Disengaging themselves. ) 
Georo;e 

Now what talk is that ? 

Mrs. Burnett 

I fear we will have to part soon. 

George 

What nonsense has entered your head ? 

(Mrs. Burnett appears to be in great pain.) 

George 

Louise, you are not well. I can't understand you. The doctor 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, ^r^ ///. 45 

has warned you again and again not to do any mental work, but 
you don't seem to care. {Pointing to desk excitedly. ^ What rub- 
bish is that you are continually writing and pondering over? 

Mrs. Burnett 

It is your sister's manuscript of a story. 

(Gkorgk runs to desk — seizes papers and in a furious man- 
ner is about to destroy them. Mrs. Burnett prevents 
him from doifig so.) 

George 

AVhat has this confounded stor}- got to do with you ? 

Mrs. Burnett 

Eveh'n wants me to put the finishing touches to it — and I want 
5'our opinion about one point. 

Geor§:e 

I have no time to listen to such trash. 

Mrs. Burnett 

It will take but a moment. 

Georgfe 

I am in no mood now. 

Mrs. Burnett 

George, please. It will be a great relief for me. 

Georgfe 

Well, go on. 

Mrs. Burnett 

The main theme of the stor}^ was taken by Evelyn from the 
tale that Mr. Russell told at our entertainment. 

Georg-e 

[Eagerly.) Well? 

Mrs. Burnett 

Look what your sister has done. She describes the friend whom 
the British merchant thought was false, a most noble character — 
a true friend and one who has never broken the code of friend- 
ship, and lays all the blame upon his wife. 

George 

Whv does she do that? 



46 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act III. 

Mrs. Burnett 

She has good motives for doing so. 

Gcorg:e 

And how does the story terminate ? 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Watching him closely.) She tells her husband all — she pro- 
mises him that a pure atmosphere will surround their home. He 
forgives her. They go to a new part of the world — among new 
people and begin a new life. 

Geor§:e 

That's a very nice termination for a story. In real life I hardly 
think it would happen. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Why not? 

Georgfe 

Why not ? — Suppose a man has a friend whom he cherishes — 
say almost worship — intrusts him wdth all his secrets ; looks to 
him for advice and encouragement and one day he finds the friend 
that he loved more than himself, deceived him. — Do you suppose 
he can trust him again and look in his eyes as if nothing had 
happened ? Oh, no — we are not so good natured, or, if you 
choose, not so high-minded. 

Mrs. Burnett 

But that is his wife. 

George 

So much the worse. 

Mrs. Burnett 

And what would you do with such a woman ? 

George 

{In a harsh tone.) What I would do with such a woman? {Em- 
phatically.) I would take her by the neck and throw her out into 
the gutter where she belongs. {Panse.) 

Mrs. Burnett 

Is there no such thing as forgiveness ? 

George 

There are some things that we cannot and must not forgive. 



HIS PiVRTNER'S WIFE, Act III. 47 

Mrs. Burnett 

Your sister described her not as a bad woman — she's simply 
found of romance and a romantic life — if given another opportu- 
nity she would be true. 

Geofjje 

That makes no difference. Her infamous crime is too great to 
be forgiven. 

Mrs. Burnett 

But no matter what crime a man commits, it is proper he should 
be forgiven, and, in the eyes of the world, she is a prudent woman 
that stands by her husband. 

George 

Yes, in that respect a woman is superior in purity to a man. 

Mrs. Burnett 

Then the story must end that she is thrown out into the gutter? 

Georgfc 

( With empJiasis.) Into the gutter, Madam. 

Mrs* Burnett 

Yes — but, George. — 

Georgfc 

I don't want to hear any more about the subject. Destroy the 
manuscript — burn it — burn it, I say, I don't want it in my house. 
( Exits L. qti iciz ly. ) 

(Mrs. Burnett remains standing witti tier tiands resting 
on ttie table titze a statue. After prolonged pause. ) 

Mr. Burnett 

[Crying out.) Burn it ! Burn it ! 

^Stie goes towards destz — taties ttie pages of ttie inanuscript 

and bairns ttieni. Stie opens ttie drawer of ttie desk, 

takes out ttie money and burns it — wattzs out triumpti- 

antly and in tiysterical laugtiter. ) 

Into the gutter ! Into the gutter ! {Exits R. I. ) 

(Servant enters f^om R. 2 E.^goes and tinoctis at L. D. 
George enters and Servant fiands tiim some cards.) 



48 HLS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad III. 

Geor§:e 

Show the gentlemen up. (Sp:RVAN'r is about to go out. ) 

John, bring up also some refreshments and cigars. 

. (Servant e.vits R. and George; exits L.) 
{Room remains empty for a second. Mr. Thompson, 
A1.1.EN, BE1.1.EW and Keen enter R. — They all gaze 
around the room. ) 

Allen 
Beautiful room. 

Thompson 
Beautifully furnished. 

Allen 

Beautifully decorated, and perhaps with our money. 

Belkw 

No doubt. No doubt. (Mr. Burnett enters L. ) 

George 

Good evening, gentlemen. {Shakes hands with all.) 

(Servant enters laith cigars and refreshments.) 

Be seated and make yourselves at home. Here are some cigars 

— {pause.) You'wilL'excuse me, we will be ready in a few minutes. 

{Exits L. All light cigars and drink and take seats. ) 

Thompson 

I wonder how many thousand dollars this cigar will cost me. 

Allen 

It will cost me nothing. 

Keen 
Do you think we are invited here to a picnic, Allen ? 

Allen 

I don't know but I wouldn't take ninety-nine cents on a dollar. 

Keen 

You are a silver man, Thompson ; you should be satisfied with 
a fifty-three cent dollar 

Thompson 

I would rather have a fifty-three cent dollar than no dollar at 
all. If they offer me fifty cents on the dollar I will be satisfied. 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE. Act III. 



Allen 



49 



You are all in good humor, this evening. Three of ni}- largest 
customers have failed this month. 

Thompson 

Did you get any silver dollars ? 

{Laughter.) 
Allen 
I would have been well satisfied wath tin dollars. 

Bellew 

Joking aside, we have too many failures an3'wa3\ 
Allen 

I tell you it is all owing to the looseness of our laws. We laugh 
at the laws of the ancients, but some of them are excellent 
and most practicable even to-day. Take for example the old 
Roman law that permitted the creditors of an insolvent debtor to 
sell him and his wife and children into slavery. Isn't that a great 
law? {Laughter.) If we had such a law there would be no 
failures. 

Keen 

Here is a better one — in China they chop his head off. 

Allen 

That's more practical. {Laughter. ) 

Thompson 

The law is all right. The trouble, Allen, is, your debtor's turn 
is to-day but your own turn ma}^ come to-morrow. {Draws hand 
across throat. All laugh hea^'tily. ) 

Allen 

The Roman and Chinese laws I want for m}^ debtors ; the 
American laws are good enough for me, Thompson. {Puffs his 
cigar. All laugh. Pours out some ivine and drinks. ) 

Keen 

Really, it was a surprise to me when I heard that Burnett's firm 
was shak3\ We always considered it Ai. 



50 KIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act III. 

Allen 

It is said that his wife is very extravagant and that he foolishly 
allowed.her full swing. 

Thompson 

Next time, Allen, when you lend a man money, be sure to ask 
full particulars about his wife. [Laughter.) 

(Mr. George Burnett, Mr. John Burnett," Mr. Leder- 
MAN and Ferguson entei^ L. George and Ferguson 
carry papers. ) 

George 

[Points to table.) Gentlemen, be seated, iAll take seats around tlie 
table. ) You are our principal creditors and we called this private 
meeting to see what arrangements we can make for fair settle- 
ment. You are all aware my father founded the firm which now 
consists of Mr. Lederman and myself. The firm has passed 
through many a crisis, but has never failed. It will depend upon 
your decision to-night whether the firm will close its doors to- 
morrow. [Prolonged silence in the room.) Mr. Ferguson, please 
hand the balance sheets to the gentlemen. (Mr. Ferguson hands 
the balance sheets to one of the creditors.) Gentlemen, this is the 
financial condition of our firm. 

( They all rise from their seats and form a group, and on fop 
of each other they examine the balance sheet. Pause. — At 
a glance of the paper they utter expressions of astonish- 
ment.) 

Allen 

( Taking balance sheet in his hand and then throiving paper ivith 
force on the table.) I'll be damned if I'll accept such an offer. ( Walks 
up and down nervously with hands behind back.) Twenty-five 
cents on the dollar — that's out of the question. 

Thompson 

We ought to know at least the cause of this dreadful embarra^ss- 
ment. 

Bellew 

Why, our bank considered your firm one of the most reliable. 
I am empowered to accept any reasonable offer, but — 



HIvS PARTNER'S WIFE, Ad III. 51 

Allen 

This is the first time that I have had any dealings with you, 
and if 3^ou think I will accept svich an offer, you are entirely 
mistaken. 

Georgfc 
(/;/ quiet tone. ) That's the best we can do. 

{Alt rise — there is a general uproar and they form in group to 
talk the matter over) 

Thompson 

{Speakifig to group ) Let us be a little reasonable. Let us 
hear the cause of this embarrassment. 

[AU turn to their seats except Mr. Ai^i,e;n who walks up and 
down the room nervously . ) 

Keen 

{At table.) The firm's embarrassment is a surprise to us all. 
We would like to hear the cause. 

Alien 

{Interrupting, and in a loud voice.) The cause ! I'll tell you 
the cause. Have you not read in the newspapers of the grand 
entertainments this man gave with our money — with our money ? 

Gcorg:c 

{Angrily. ) You are my creditor, but you are in my house. 

Burnett, Sn 

Gentlemen, I will tell you the cause. 

(Mr. Lederman interruptingly and rising.) 

Mr* Lederman 

Mr. Burnett, Mr. Burnett, I will explain the cause — {pause) 
Gentlemen, an employee used the firm's money for private specu- 
lation, and has done that for quite a considerable time. In the 
end he could not meet his liabilities and that, combined with the 
•hard times — 

Allen 

Who was this employee ? 

Burnett, Sr. 

( Rising and excitedly. ) No — no — no excuses — gentlemen — the 



52 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act III. 

collapse of this firm will mean that thirty-five years of my honest 
work has been for nothing ; but I must tell you the truth. It was 
no employee — it was my — 

(^Mr. Lf:derman rising — knocking furiously on table.) 

Lederman 

No — no — no, Mr. Burnett, you are too excited ; let me explain. 

( Piano is heard playing first a sad melody, then Mrs. Burnett 
is heard singing a popular melody with piano accompani- 
ment foUoived by a, ^ound of hysterical laughter.) 

Geofgfe 

( To ^WRGVSON— pointing to R. D. ) — Mr. Ferguson, please tell 
Mrs. Burnett this is no time to play. 

(Mr. Ferguson rhes and goes to R. D. ) 

Ferguson 

Mrs. Burnett— Mrs. Burnett. 

(Mrs. Burnett enters R. ivith hair hanging doivn at had- 
and partly hiding her face. All rise as she enters, (bos- 
ses towards staircase— stops and looks at gentlemen. ) 

Mrs, Burnett 

Good night ! Good night ! 

Ferguson 

(Aside to Mrs. Burnett, j This is the time for you to speak. 
(Mrs. Burnett looks at Ferguson with a blank stare and laughs — 
Ferguson repeats. ) This is the best time for you to speak . ( Mrs. 
Burnett laughs. George rising goes towards Mrs. Burnett. ) 

George 

Louise, please go to your room. 

(She takes no notice of his rem,ark and goes toivards the table. 
Looks at the geyitlemen sta,ringly and takes a glass and 
pours out some wine— drinks — laughs. ) 
(George rings bell and. Servant enters.) 

George 

( To servant. ) John, run quickly and tell Dr. Morton to come 



HIS PARTNERS WIFE. Act III. 53 

here at once. If he is not at home bring any doctor and tell 
^larie to go after my sister Evelyn. 
( Servant exits. ) 

(George goes towards Mrs. Burnett and takes tier hij the 
arm, leading Jier toivards staircase. Sl^e resists and breaks 
loose- from Mm. ) 

Mrs. Burnett 

{Pushing him from her.') No, no, you want to throw me out 
into the gutter. Gentlemen, he wants to throw me out into the 
gutter — his own wife into the gutter. 

(George turns pale and staggers as though about to fall — 
then goes towards the table and resumes seat. Mr. Fer- 
guson .^oes to Mrs. Burnett ) 

Fei'§:uson 

Mrs. Burnett, what have you done with the money ? 

(Mrs. Burnett looks at him and laughs.) 

Fergfuson 

{Aloud to everyone. ) Where is the money, Mrs. Burnett ? 

(Mrs. Burnett /r/?/$r/H;?^. ) 

Burnett, Sr, 

What money, Ferguson ? 

Ferg^uson 

{Rising from table.) Before the meeting I pawned all her 
jewels and realized on them sixty thousand dollars which she in- 
tended to offer to the creditors. 

Burnett, Sr« 

( To Mrs. Burnett. ) Where is the money ? 

(Mrs. Burnett /f/?/r///.s.) 
Mrs* Burnett 
Into the gutter — into the gutter. 

Burnett, Sr. 

Where did she put the mone}', Ferguson ? 

Ferguson 

{Pointing to deslc.) In that desk. 

(Burnett, Sr., runs to desk opens drawers with tremhling 



54 HIS PARTNER'S WIFE, Act III. 

hands and finds draivers empty. Dr. Morton enters 
quickly R. ) 

Burnett, Sf . 

Ivouise, for God's sake, tell us what you have done with the 
money. 

{She takes him hy the arm and goes down to the fireplace. ) 

Mrs* Burnett 

Into the gutter— [Pointing towards tJie fire.) Into the gut- 
ter- (Laughs.) 

(Dr. Morton goes towards Mrs. Burne;tt — takes her arm, 
motions to FERGUSON to take the other. They lead her up 
the staircase; she resists; screams and laughs and then 
disappears. Mr. Burnktt, Sr., examines and finds 
remnants of the burned money. After a long silence 
Thompson speaks ) 

Thompson 

I will accept the offer. 

Keen 

vSo will I. 

Bellew 

I suppose I will have to do like the rest. 

{Pa7ise.) 

Thompson 

(Indignantty.) Allen what are you waiting for? Have you no 
human feeling in you ? 

Allen 

I — {screams are Jieard) I accept {quic/ily.) 

{Alt rise except George. Credit oj^s after bidding good 
night, exeunt R. 2. George remains sitting on chair 
in depressed condition.) 
(Mr. V"EKGvsoisi decends staircase/otto7i'ed dy Dr. Morton.) 

Ferguson 

( To BiTRNETT, vSr —Is everything all right? 

Burnett, Sr* 
Yes. 

Dr. Morton 

{To George.) It would be necessary to have someone to watch 
her until — 



HIS PARTNER'S WIFE. Act III. 55 

Burnettt St* 

Leave him alone, Doctor, leave him alone. — 

Dr. Morton 

I am going to send someone to be with her the whole night. 

Burnett^ Sr* 

Doctor, do whatever you think best — ^is there any immediate 
danger ? 

Dr. Morton 
Yes — she has a mania with suicidal tendencies — later on I 
will put her in a private asylum. 

(Evelyn enters right with frightened appearance ) 

Evelyn 

Father, what is the matter? 

Burnett, Sr. 

Everything is all right now ; we have made a satisfactory set- 
tlement. 

Evelyn 

I am glad to hear it. {Sees George sitting in a depressed man- 
ner and wants to go towards him btit her father prevents her.) 
What is the matter with George ? 

Burnett, Sr. 

Leave him alone — he is exhausted. ( Calling. ) Lederman take 
Evelyn home. 

(Lederman takes his hat and as he is about to go out with 
Evelyn, George rises and goes towards him.) 

Georgfe 

{Offering hand to Lederman, n'ho takes it. ) I have done you a 
great injustice. I beg your pardon. Now I can see that you have 
been my friend — and a true one. From to-day on I will do my 
best to be worthy of your friendship. 

(Evelyn and Lederman exit R. George goes to table — 
sits down ivith head resting on hand and weeps bitterly. 
Curtain falls as Mrs. Burnett's screams are heard.) 

THE END. 



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